


For All the Nights You Can’t Sleep

by fictionalheart



Series: For All the Nights [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:30:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalheart/pseuds/fictionalheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Morgana goes to Gaius’s coffee shop, she does so because it’s convenient, the second because she likes their coffee and their chairs, and the seventy-sixth because it’s become the only place she can escape to in the middle of the night. Merlin/Morgana. Modern AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A very dear friend sent me a "The coffee place is the only moment of peace she gets from her crazy family who lives in the penthouse of the same building. He’s the hopeless barista who always screws up her order on purpose just so she’ll up to the counter and yell at him.” prompt a few weeks ago and it, along with my weakness for coffee shop aus and my need to procrastinate during exam prep, led to this... 
> 
> (This should be two to three chapters, tops.)

The first time Morgana goes to Gaius’s coffee shop, she does so because it’s convenient, the second because she likes their coffee and their chairs, and the seventy-sixth because it’s become the only place she can escape to in the middle of the night.

It’s towards the end of exams when she learns that the shop never closes and starts going late at night, too anxious to study at home. She finds comfort in its surroundings and goes night after night, staying until one or two in the morning. Its worn carpets and plush, leather armchairs lull her jumbled, frantic thoughts and give off a more soothing atmosphere than her family’s stark, modern penthouse up above, where Uther and Arthur fuss and scream about an impending scandal that Uther has brought down on their heads. 

Slamming the door behind her as Uther’s screams echo down the stairs, Morgana heads there again tonight. She’s glad that she’s developed the habit of showing up at odd hours. It’s nearly two in the morning and while anyone else would question her appearance, she knows Gaius won’t bat an eye, even when he sees she doesn’t have any schoolbooks to keep her awake. 

A final shout from Uther pierces through the building’s surprisingly thin walls, and she puts more force into her steps, the clicks of her heels calming her down as they reverberate through the corridor and she makes her way to the lift. No doubt everyone on their floor and below is asleep, but the knowledge that Uther would convulse at the thought of her making a further scene and alerting their neighbours to their problems fills her with glee.

Sub-zero winds lap at her face as she makes her way out onto the street, and she wishes she’d thought to grab a coat in her rage. She burrows her chin into her massive, cashmere scarf and takes the fifteen steps to the coffee shop, letting out a growl as she pushes through the door.

“Again, Morgana?”

She stills, quickly looking towards the register and surveying the rest of the room. Gaius is nowhere to be found. Instead, his nephew and her one problem with the shop is leaning against the counter behind the register, watching her with concern. 

Morgana scowls and shrugs. “You aren’t going to refuse to serve me, are you?”

She tells herself she hates him, but she struggles to keep the frown on her face as his look softens and he pushes away from the granite surface to reach for a mug. “Of course not. Your usual?” he asks, his brows lifting.

Her frown disappears at that, and she feels the corners of her mouth quirk into an involuntary grin. “Do you even know my drink, Merlin?” 

He gets her order wrong every single time he’s on shift, making her different drinks and spluttering apologies amidst puppy-eyed stares as she tells him off. She’s convinced he does it on purpose, but he never pushes the conversation further, and she finds herself confusedly staring at him from her little, corner nook with more and more frequency.

His voice softens as he speaks, “I know your order, Morgana.” He gestures to stop her as she digs into her bag for her wallet. “I’ll bring it to you.”

She begins to object, but he cuts her off, “I’ve been ordered by Gaius not to let you pay if you walk in here after midnight.” 

She smiles, looking off to the side. “That’s sweet of him.”

Both the coffee shop owner and a long-time resident of the building, Gaius is an old friend, and the order touches her. He sits up with her when her late night visits aren’t academically motivated, listening to her rants or telling her stories of his own. 

“Well, he’s also ordered me to put decaf shots in your late night mochas, but I don’t think you want me to listen to that bit.”

Morgana smirks, not at all surprised. Gaius, a former doctor who’d only opened the shop after he'd grown bored with early retirement, is always lecturing her about her excessive caffeine consumption, even as he makes her extra shots. “No. I’ll be here for a while, so best not.”

“It’ll be our secret then.” Merlin smiles and then nods towards her table.

She considers her usual spot, and for once, the heavy oak table doesn’t call to her. She settles for the armchairs in the centre of the room instead, tossing her bag onto the carpet and dropping into the softest looking seat. She draws her legs up beneath her, thankful she hadn’t bothered to trade her green velvet smoking slippers for boots, and already feels calmer than she had minutes ago.

Eying the bookshelves along the walls, she wonders what to do to pass the time until Uther cools down and she can go back upstairs. Despite herself, she feels sleepy and wishes Gaius were there to recommend something or to merely keep her company. She considers getting back up to browse the selection, but then Merlin appears before her and she’s taken aback to find she feels a bit nervous in his presence.  

She’s spent many evenings sitting with Gaius. They discuss her classes and even, sometimes, her relationship with Uther, whom Gaius has known since long before Morgana came into the picture. Yet, somehow, she’s never been on the same side of the counter as Merlin, never seen him from this angle, and she’s surprised to find how blue his eyes as he smiles down at her.

She says, “Thank you.” as he places her drink down before her, but then frowns as he plops into the chair across from hers with a second cup in his hands. “What are you doing?”

“I was due for a break.”

“But the -”

He shrugs. “There’s no one else here, Morgana.” His eyes sparkle as he checks his watch. “... and given that it’s nearing two twenty in the morning on a Tuesday, I don’t think it's likely that anyone else is going to arrive."

She looks down and reaches for her cup. “Gaius sits with me sometimes.”

Merlin smiles at her, clearly bemused. “He’s said.”

She frowns, pausing with the cup before her lips. “He hasn’t -”

“Oh! No. He’s just said how much he enjoys your visits.”

She smiles, relieved that her elderly confidante hasn’t said more. She trusts the old doctor, finding as much comfort in his occasional wise words as within his shop, and she’s glad that her trust in him is well placed. “Well, I enjoy them as well. He didn’t order you to do this too, did he?”

“No.”

She smiles, finally taking a sip of her drink. The caffeinated, chocolaty liquid spreads instant warmth through her, and she's surprised by how good it is, not too powdery or too strong, exactly the way she likes it.

"Good?"

"It's excellent." She smirks, her earlier suspicions confirmed. "You've been messing up my drinks on purpose this entire time, haven't you?"

Merlin smirks. "I didn't at first, but then..." He trails off as his cheeks darken. _Was he blushing?  "_ Your reactions were too endearing to stop?"

She snorts. "I distinctively remember snapping at you. Repeatedly." 

She takes another sip of her drink and leans back in her chair, hands wrapped around the enormous white mug. 

Merlin shrugs, and the blush deepens, causing her to smirk.

Something flutters in her chest, and she wonders at his reaction.

He clears his throat. "So what brings you in tonight?"

Her mouth contorts into a cynical half smile, and she looks at the cup in her hands, absent-mindedly noticing the chip in her deep, wine-coloured varnish. She considers lying to him, but she finds him watching her with genuine interest when she raises her eyes to look back at him, and says, "We aren't all as lucky as you are with Gaius when it comes to father figures." 

"Uther?"

 Morgana frowns. "You know my stepfather?" 

"I do live in the same building, you know."

"You do?"

"I live with Gaius. At least for now." 

"I didn't realise you were staying with him."

“You wouldn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

"Just..." he trails off and gestures at her. "Why should you?"

She stares at him, taking in just how well his exceptionally tousled hair frames his face, sharpening his exquisite cheekbones and yet somehow simultaneously making him appear more vulnerable. She wonders what impression she's given off that he thinks she has no reason to notice him. Granted, she's kept him at an arm's length and been short with him, but that had more to do with her unease with her reactions to him than with him himself.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You're always rude to me."

She considers him and decides she admires him for his frankness. "I'm sorry.”

He shrugs and looks away, and she adds, “It’s a matter of habit.”

"Being rude?" The corner of his mouth twists upwards, and she adds his smile to the list of things she likes about him.

"Keeping my defences up."

He nods. "I can understand that. What did Uther do, then?”

Morgana hesitates, never having been one to spill her guts to relative strangers. Still, something about Merlin makes her feel at ease, as if she’s known him for far longer than the three odd weeks he’s been working with Gaius and the ten or so minutes where they haven’t been at odds with each other. She wonders if the unexpected connection is what’s subconsciously been pushing her to keep him at a distance. She opens her mouth to speak, but Merlin must have noticed her hesitation because he speaks before she does --

“I’m sorry. It isn’t my place.”

 “No, it’s okay. It’s just that I’m not used to talking about Uther.” She taps her finger against the handle of the mug, and adds, “At least not to anyone that isn’t Gwen or Gaius.” 

“Gwen’s the friend who was in here with you, yeah?”

Morgana quirks an eyebrow but smiles. She’d only brought Gwen to the coffee shop a handful of times, and only two of those times had been in the past few weeks. Gwen had gone out of her way to acknowledge Merlin though, and she wasn’t surprised that he remembered her.

“She’s my best friend, and she’s engaged to Arthur.”

“Your brother?”

She nods. “I’ve been friends with Gwen for ages. Her dad worked for Uther and her mum was a professor and would volunteer to tutor Arthur and me from time to time. Gwen’s a year younger than us, but she’d always join in, and we all bonded, though it took them a long time to figure things out.”

“Uther must be happy that they got together though, if he’s friends with her father.”

“Oh, he isn’t. That’s actually how tonight’s argument started.”

Merlin frowns. “I thought he’d be the type to embrace those kinds of connections.”

 _If only it were that simple_. Morgana’s mouth twists into a sardonic smile. “He is, but you see, Gwen didn’t follow her father into the business, and he doesn’t think she has _potential_.” She hears the way her voice drips with sarcasm, and she feels her anger towards Uther build up again.

“What does she do?”

“She’s in grad school with me, except she’s interested in social sciences. She’s specializing in gender studies and she wants to go down the academic route. Uther doesn’t exactly look upon that fondly, and he thinks gender studies is, so to speak, a ‘bullshit topic’ he doesn’t want associated to his name.” 

She watches Merlin as she speaks, curious to see how he’ll react. She knows her fair share of men who agree with Uther, and she internally sighs with relief as he frowns and gives a derisive snort of laughter.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It is. Especially because I don’t see Gwen taking Arthur’s name.”

Merlin smirks and leans forward in his chair. “I bet that pisses Uther off, too.”

“It does. More so, somehow.”

“And what do you study?”

“Literature.” 

“Really?”

There isn’t an ounce of judgement in his expression, nothing but the appearance of genuine interest, and she nods. “I started out in Economics, but I hated everything about it. Uther’s glee most of all.”

“He must be thrilled now.” 

Morgana smiles, thinking back to all the screaming matches that had turned to silent rage. Uther knew she wouldn’t back down, and so he’d learned to keep quiet and express his anger towards other matters.  

“What are you specializing in?”

“The depiction of witchcraft in Medieval and Early Modern works.”

 She expects a neutral response, used to indifference even by those in her wider field, but Merlin beams at her, his smile taking over his entire face. “That’s excellent.”

 “And what do you study? Gaius told me you’d moved to the city to go back to grad school, too.”

“History. I’m working on the politicized mythicization of sorcery in the medieval period.”

“You’re kidding.” 

He shakes his head, eyes sparkling as his obvious mirth fails to subside, and Morgana finds herself smiling back at him, even as she feels something tighten in her chest and chides herself for keeping Merlin at a distance for so long.

 

* * *

 

Morgana’s visits to the coffee shop become even more frequent after that. Merlin stops messing up her drinks, and she stops glaring at him.

She trades her corner table for the bar adjacent to the espresso machines when she isn’t there to study, and they fall into an endless stream of conversation. Something about Merlin, beyond their shared academic interests, still strikes Morgana as oddly familiar, and she opens up in a way that surprises her.

Merlin does the same and begins taking his breaks to coincide with her visits, so that he can join her when she does come in with a bag full of papers and books. They read in companionable silence or bounce ideas off of each other until Gaius shows up at the table to remind them of the time and send Merlin running back to the counter.

Morgana catches Gaius’ inquisitive stare the first time he spots her and Merlin sitting together, but his silent questioning slowly quickly turns into smug, knowing glances, and she can’t help but smile back at the sudden changes.

 

* * *

 

Her nighttime visits to the shop become even more habitual as the weeks elapse and the visits have less to do with escaping her family and more to do with the barista. Gaius lets her know when he assigns Merlin the night shift, walking off with a quiet little laugh, and she shows up around midnight with novels and oversized jumpers to settle into the armchairs in the centre of the room.

Merlin waits until the last customers leave to join her, and they continue their earlier conversations over hot chocolate before settling on more intimate topics.

Not even an entire month passes after their initial friendly meeting when Morgana realizes she’s grown closer to Merlin than anyone but Gwen. For whatever reason, the thought doesn’t scare her, and for the first time, she doesn’t even consider running.

 

* * *

 

Morgana does, however, find herself running when a week later, she wakes up from a nightmare at three a.m. and can’t go back to sleep. Arthur has finally moved out to be closer to Gwen, and Uther is nowhere to be found, having disappeared on a weeks-long business trip and left the penthouse in a deadly quiet state. 

She starts off the evening happy with the calm, spreading out in the living room with takeaway and research articles, but then she dozes off on the sofa before she can even think of going down to the café, and the nightmares begin almost immediately. 

She sees flames bursting out of her bedside table in a muddy hovel, finds herself in excruciating pain on the ground in autumnal woods, paralyzed as an old, bearded man stands over her, and she wakes up screaming. The dreams are nothing new. They’re visions she’s had ever since she was a child, but they become more and more vivid with every recurrence without ever gaining meaning.

She considers staying put as her heartbeat slows, but she knows from past experience that dozing off again will mean returning to the same dreamscapes. Throwing the blanket she’d wrapped herself in aside, she grabs her bag and runs downstairs.

Merlin’s on shift again, and he pushes away from the counter with a soft smile as the door chimes to alert him to her entrance.

“I didn’t think you were coming tonight.”

“I dozed off much earlier than I expected.”

Her trouble sleeping is no secret, and Merlin frowns. “But you couldn’t stay asleep?” 

She shrugs, giving him a strained smile. He may know many little things about her at this point, but she hasn’t told anyone but Gaius and her childhood sleep therapist about her dreams. She hesitates, fiddling with a spare thread on her scarf, and finally mutters, “I have nightmares.”

Merlin nods once, frown deepening. “I’m sorry.”

“They’re nothing new. I could use hot chocolate and company, though.”

He gives her an apologetic look and gestures at a table of quiet but numerous students. They’re first years by the look of them. Textbooks and laptops line every surface of the communal table, and one of the tired looking youths stands reading from a pile of flashcards. “They’ve been here for hours.”

Morgana sighs. “It’d have to be tonight, wouldn’t it?”

 “I think it’s exam season for the undergrads. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine. They’re bound to leave soon.” She smiles at him reassuringly and climbs onto one of the bar chairs.

Merlin grabs a mug but frowns at her actions. “You can’t be comfortable there at this hour.”

“I’m fine! I’d rather sit and chat, and if that means sitting here, then so be it.”

“Do you want me to turn them out?”

“Merlin!” 

“I could.” He smirks, shooting her a wink as he stirs the chocolaty liquid. 

“Gaius would have your head.” 

“He’ll have it for not taking better care of you, as well.” He pauses and apologetically adds, “Not that you need taking care of.”

Morgana smirks. “No, but you do an excellent job of it anyway, you and those sinfully delicious beverages.” 

Faint colour rushes to his cheeks as he sets the hot chocolate down before her. His fingers brush hers in the process, and she surprises herself by placing her hand over his. They’ve never so much as touched before, yet he instinctually flips his over and laces their fingers together.

She wonders at how natural it feels and squeezes his hand, adding a, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Morgana.” 

The colour fades from his cheeks and he gives her such an assured gaze that warmth rushes through her, and the last traces of terror from her nightmare disappear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I've written a series of one shot "outtakes" that take place between chapters 1&2 and I strongly recommend checking those out here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3944389/chapters/8841127
> 
> Original A/N: Thank you to everyone who commented and gave feedback with the first chapter! I'm sorry this update took so long though. I've had a hectic few weeks with exams and classes and work, and so I've only been able to write a little bit here and there. That being said, I think this is going to be slightly longer than I first planned... so hopefully I'll have more to share with you soon.
> 
> Ooh, and for anyone who's interested, I made a mix to go with the story, which you can find here: http://8tracks.com/fictionalheart/for-all-the-nights-you-can-t-sleep
> 
> (Again, this is un-beta'ed, so all mistakes are mine.)

 

Happiness begins to seep back into Morgana’s life as she spends more time at the coffee shop. Uther’s screams have less impact, and the emptiness left by Arthur’s departure is less pronounced.

Yet, somehow, her nightmares grow along with her newfound friendship, striking not on rare occasions, but once, twice a week as soon as she allows herself to relax and drift off into deep sleep.

Medieval dungeons and chains overtake her mind, locking her into visions of misery and terror. She fights to escape into more pleasant dreamscapes, but manacles appear around her wrists and she gets no further than the tiny dungeon window to watch as loved ones are pulled away towards expertly constructed pyres. She sees Gwen succumb to grief and Arthur struggle to save her in vain, and through it all, she hears Uther’s laughs.

Only after she watches everyone around her suffer and die does she find herself hurtling back towards consciousness. Night after night she wakes with her pulse racing and screams stuck at the back of her throat.

Night after night, she dresses and heads back downstairs to the coffee shop, pulling long-sleeved jumpers over unblemished wrists that still feel phantom pain.

Merlin never pushes her to talk about her dreams, never questions that she heads up after their midnight chats and returns hours later, no doubt looking the worse for her few hours of troubled sleep. He greets her with sad smiles and hot chocolate and is quick to leave his post to sit with her when no one else is around.

They build a routine, and Morgana finds the early morning hours she spends with Merlin to be more helpful than any past bouts of therapy.

But then Uther decides to solve his fiscal and family problems by allowing Gwen’s father to take the fall for an impending scandal. He blames Tom Leodegrance for having embezzled millions of dollars by cheating hundreds of their investors of their savings. And then he disappears, leaving everyone alone to deal with the fallout.

Gwen takes off to be with her family, Arthur to find Uther, and Morgana finds herself alone defending Tom’s innocence and denouncing her stepfather to the hounding media.

She’s unforgiving in her remarks about Uther, but unable to take her anger directly out on him, she internalizes her rage.

The nightmares come on more quickly in the wake of the scandal, plaguing her almost nightly until sleep threatens to evade her altogether. The fourth consecutive night she reappears in the coffee shop within hours of going up to bed, she finds Gaius waiting for her instead of Merlin. She smiles at the sight of her old friend and moves to hug him in greeting as he steps out from behind the counter.

“It’s good to see you, Gaius. How was your trip to Dublin?”

Gaius’ yearly trip to Ireland to visit Merlin’s mother had coincided with Uther’s scandal, and Morgana had missed her friend’s council.

“It was lovely.” He hugs her tightly, and takes on a conspiratorial air as he steps away and adds, “Hunith was interested in hearing all about you.”

Happy to have something more lighthearted to discuss, she smiles and looks away from Gaius’ teasing gaze. “I wasn’t aware that Hunith knew of my existence.”

“Oh, she’s well aware of it. It seems Merlin is able to speak of little else when he calls her, these days.”

Having heard nothing but wonderful things about Merlin’s mother, she’s secretly pleased to hear it but shakes her head with a smile and says, “Poor Hunith.”

Gaius chuckles and steps back towards the counter. “Can I offer you anything?”

“A hot chocolate would be wonderful.”

Gaius nods and moves behind the espresso machines, and she reaches into her bag for a spare fiver to drop into the tip jar while he isn’t looking.  

“You know you can’t keep going like this, Morgana.”

She jumps, afraid Gaius is going to chastise her for paying when he’s expressly told her not to, but he’s still fixed on his task. Swallowing, she takes on a cheerful tone, and quips, “I thought you’d be happy I ordered something without any coffee in it.”

“I am. Very happy. But that isn’t what I meant.”

The complete disappearance of joy from his tone makes her pause, and knowing the events of the past few days are on the tip of Gaius’ tongue, she braces herself for the conversation that’s to come. “Oh?”

“You're wearing yourself thin, Morgana.”

She deflates at the expected words, even as defensive arguments rush to the surface of her mind. She takes a deep breath, reminding herself that Gaius only had her well being in mind, and struggles to find her words. “I -”

“I’m not saying you aren’t welcome, my dear. You’re welcome through these doors at any hour of the day or night. Merlin and I are here whenever you need us, but I’m worried about you. We’re both worried about you.”

She relaxes slightly at his words, but frowns at the _we_. “Has Merlin said something?”

“He hasn’t had to. I heard about Uther and Albion while I was away.”

Morgana nods once, swallowing as she looks away. “It’s all over the news.”

“It is, and I know you’ve been dealing with it alone.”

“I haven’t been alone… exactly.”

“Arthur?”

She shakes her head. “He left to find Uther to try and get him to come back and face the consequences.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Gaius asks, sighing at her brother’s naive good intent.

“How could you be? Though, if anyone stands a chance with getting through to Uther, it’s Arthur.”

“That is very true.”

Gaius nods and reaches for the milk steamer, drowning the room in a brief, consequent whoosh.  

“Merlin says you’ve been in here every night this week.”

“How do you know I haven’t just been coming in to see Merlin?”

“Because then you would both look happier, and besides, you do that enough at other times of the day. He says you’ve been in here like this, at three or four in the morning instead of just your usual midnight visits.”  

She turns away, studying the frayed edge of the carpet at her feet, and debates bringing up the topic of her nightmares with Gaius. He was a doctor, after all, and though he hadn’t been the one to treat her when she was a child, he was well acquainted with the problems she faced. Taking in a deep breath, she turns to him as he walks towards her, two mugs in hand, and decides to speak as she steps to lead the way towards their preferred chairs. “I’ve been having nightmares again.”

Gaius frowns, placing the mugs on the worn coffee table before her. “Like the ones you had as a child?”

“They started out the same, but they’ve gotten worse over the past few weeks and much, much worse since the scandal broke. They’re longer and far more vivid.” She pauses, hesitating as Gaius’ gaze darkens as she speaks, but then decides to add, “And they’re far more violent.”

Gaius settles into the chair across from her and asks, “Violent how?”

She shakes her head. “I’d rather not go into detail. Let it suffice to say I’d rather sit up for over half the night than risk returning to the visions.”

“What do you think is causing them?”

She’d blamed the visions on her studies at first, on the hundreds of pages of research she does every week, even though the dreams are what sparked her interest in medieval literature and pushed her towards her specialty. There was no definite reason for them.

“The reason for the increase in dreams over the past week seems rather obvious with everything that’s happened, but I don’t understand why they started getting worse beforehand. Some of the scenarios…” She pauses, gathering the courage to say what she knows will sound ridiculous, “Some of the things I’ve seen lately played out with Uther. Symbolically, of course, but it scares me all the same, especially considering how much worse they’ve become. I know that sounds silly.”

“No, my dear. The subconscious has a strange way of showing us the things we can’t see for ourselves. I’m afraid I don’t know what to tell you in this case though.”

She nods, fidgeting with a loose thread on her sleeve. “This is such a mess, Gaius.” Pulling her hand away, she reaches for the cup he’d placed in front of her. “The hot chocolate truly does help, though. Thank you.”

“That’s because it helps produce serotonin.”

Morgana smiles, mouth closed, and wraps both hands around the warm china. “So you’ve said.”  

Gaius nods. “And Merlin?”

She quirks a brow and smirks, hoping to lighten the mood. “Does he help produce serotonin?”

Gaius sighs, shaking his head at his young friend. “Has he been helping?”

“He has. Far more so.” She leans back, burrowing into the corner of her chair and draws her legs up onto the seat beside her. “It’s odd, really. There’s something about Merlin that makes it feel like I’ve known him forever.” She pauses as the old man begins to smirk, and adds, “I’m sure that sounds even more ridiculous than the nightmares, but I don’t know how else to explain it.”

He shakes his head, chuckling as he reaches for his own drink. “It doesn’t sound at all absurd. I remember thinking the same thing when I first met Alice.”  

Morgana’s pulse speeds up as the implication behind his words hits her, and she forces herself not to blush as Gaius mentions his late wife.

“I’m glad he’s been here for you, Morgana.”

She nods, smiling as she fixates on the cup in her hands. “So am I. Now tell me more about Dublin.”  

 

* * *

 

The scandal drags on for weeks. Uther stays away, only releasing occasional press statements to play the role of the victim. Arthur continues to search for him, and then Gwen's father dies in a freak accident that Morgana knows in her gut is anything but. She’s fed up with the entire situation, with the ruthless cruelty of the man she’d grown up with and the unimaginable pain he’d caused those she cared most about in the world.

She throws herself further into her studies and decides to finish her degree sooner than she’d planned, and even as she tells everyone she’s fine, that she’s coping with her world being torn apart, she feels herself wearing thin. The nightmares persist, and a constant burning sensation spreads from her brain through her entire body as exhaustion and anxiety overtake her.

“You need to sleep, Morgana.”

She looks up from the lines of text that had blurred over as she’d gotten lost in her thoughts to find Merlin staring at her, brow creased and hand gently resting on her arm.

For once, Merlin isn't on shift. A new barista, Will, is working the counter, but they sit together at their tucked away table at one a.m. anyway, both facing looming deadlines and neither wanting to work in solitude.

“No.” She shakes her head softly, trying to emphasize her point and wake herself up more in the process. “What I need to do is move."

His eyes widen as he looks visibly confused and points towards another table.

"No,” she turns down his suggestion, biting back a smile even as nerves rush through her. “I mean I need to move out of the penthouse. Or I need to get rid of all of Uther's things and gut the place."

"Can you do that?"

"I can do whatever I want." She shrugs, capping the pen she'd been taking notes with minutes before. "He signed the company over to Arthur and the property over to me before he disappeared."

“That was considerate of him.”

“Extremely.” Her voice drips with sarcasm.

"He really isn't coming back, then."

Anger rushes through her at the thought, and the consequent rush of energy it brings turns to vehemence as she says, "No, and good riddance."

“What do we do then?”

The bitterness leaves as quickly as it had come on as she takes in Merlin’s expression. She’s confused by the _we_ , by the complete lack of hesitation in his question, and her own voice comes out much softer when she asks, “What do you mean?”

“With your flat, with your family…”

“You’ll help me?”

“Of course I’ll help you, Morgana.”

Their legs are nearly nestled together beneath the table, and he softly bumps his knee against hers. She gives in to her smile then, and it spreads across her face. “Thank you, Merlin. It means a lot to me. ”

He smiles back at her, and then shuts the book in front of him and begins to reach for the rest of his things. “Come on, then.”  
“Where are we going?”

“We were both right earlier - you do need to sleep and you _do_ need to move, and not just away from Uther… so we’re going to go for a walk.”

“So I can sleep?”

He nods, satisfied with himself. “It’ll help you relax.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

He looks up from zipping his laptop into his bag, and eyes twinkle before the corners of his mouth can even begin to quirk upwards. “When has that ever stopped you before?”

“Well it’s not like I go far when I come here, Merlin. I live in the same building.”

“It’ll be safe if we don’t go too far.”

She bursts out laughing at that. “I’m not worried about that. What do you have in mind, then?”

He shrugs. “Let’s just see what we find.”

 

* * *

 

They end up wandering for over an hour, marvelling at the stillness brought on by the late hour. Streetlights seem to flicker on wherever they decide to walk, and Morgana screws her eyes shut every time they do, telling herself they must have already been on but escaped her notice.

Merlin leads her down side streets she’d never noticed, and she takes him to a small courtyard garden near their building. Few people know it’s there, and though it’s meant to be private, Morgana knows where to find the key and lets them in through the gate.

A think layer of frost covers the ground, but the bench she favours in the summer rests uncovered, and she leads Merlin to it.

"You've never told me why you still live with Uther."

"Well why do you live with Gaius?"

Merlin lowers his eyes and mutters a dramatic, “tsk” as he shakes his head. “Deflecting questions with questions. So rude.”

She shrugs and bumps his side as they settle onto the bench. Morgana shivers as she makes contact with the frozen, iron seat and wonders if she’d made the best decision in leading the way to the garden. “If you want me to answer, I want to hear your story first.”

"Fine. Gaius is like a father to me and I needed somewhere affordable to live while I did my degree. And my mum wanted someone to keep an eye on him."

"He's not ill, is he?"

"No! But you know what a workaholic he can be. Mum wanted me to make sure he stopped working as hard."

"Is that why you monopolize the night shift, then?"

"Amongst other reasons." He brushes his hand against hers as he speaks, and she’s thankful for the darkness as she feels warmth rush to her cheeks.

She tangles their fingers together, and not wanting to draw attention to the action, goes on with their conversation. “Well it’s something like that for me, too.”

“Uther wanted to open a twenty-four hour coffee shop and work through the night?”

She begins to give into a smile, but shakes her head instead. “Though I could see him opening an exclusive boys’ club for his fellow bankers so they can smoke cigars and drink scotch through the night.” Merlin chuckles and her voice softens as she continues, “No, though. My mum got sick when I was still a teenager. Arthur was the only family I had left, and she wanted me to look out for Uther. To stop him from doing something like this.”

She pauses, wondering for the umpteenth time what her mother would have thought of the current situation, of Uther targeting their former friends. She takes in a shaky breath as the anger begins to mount in her, and Merlin tightens his grip on her hand.

“This isn’t your fault, Morgana.”

“I know.” And she does. She doesn’t blame herself for not stopping Uther, but she hates that she hadn’t managed to come up with a way to throw off his plans before they’d taken an irredeemable turn, that she hadn’t found a solution before her best friend had lost her own father. “I just can’t stand by while he lets innocent people pay for his crimes with their lives.”

“You’ve hardly been standing by.”

“No,” she agrees, calmly measuring her tone. “But I haven’t done enough, either. He’s still out there, and he’s torn multiple families apart. I know there’s something I’m not seeing.”

Merlin nods, a serious expression on his face, as she turns to look at him. “I know what would help you see whatever it is.”

She narrows his eyes, recognizing the look he gives her almost every night. “You’re going to tell me to sleep, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“You do know it’s hypocritical to be so fixated on my sleeping when you’re up through the night along with me?”

“Yes, but I sleep in the mornings. I know from Gaius and the others that you don’t.”

“I’m going to have to start going elsewhere for privacy’s sake.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

She quirks her brow and lays her head against his shoulder, not realizing what she’s done until Merlin relaxes against her. “Wouldn’t I?”

“Nope,” Merlin insists, his smile working its way into his voice. “No one makes your drinks as well as I do.”

“I’m sure they could learn.” Thinking of how flustered he used to get in her presence, she adds, “ _You_ did, in the end, despite all of the trouble you had at first.”

He sniffs. “I did not have trouble.”

Morgana smiles. “So you’re ready to admit you messed them up on purpose?”

“Never.”

“Well, then.”

Squeezing their joint hands once, she stands up and lets go, carefully treading on the frozen ground.

“Where are you going?”

She looks over her shoulder and smirks at him. “Elsewhere.” His face drops at her words, despite her playful tone, and she turns to face him fully before holding out her hand. “Are you coming?”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, so this is a bit of a transitional chapter? I'm not thrilled with it, but I needed to be done with it, so here it is, a bit sooner than planned...

Her face is swollen when she walks into the shop the following night. Visions of new, perturbing dreams rush through her mind, and Merlin looks up as the door jangles behind her. He’s curled up in the faded blue armchair he favours at the front of the room, the books he’d opened when she’d happily gone upstairs no more than two hours earlier still spread out on the table before him.

“I’m beginning to think my eyes are going to pop out of my head,” he begins with a faint smile. He seems quietly happy, but his expression drops at the sight of her.

She wants to explain, but another rush of tears rush to the surface, and she struggles to speak, “I had another dream.”

He frowns and jumps up with such speed that he’s standing beside her before she even finishes her sentence.

Their walk the previous night had helped to calm her and she’d fallen asleep almost as soon as she’d climbed into bed, but new images had crept up on her, torturing her sleep. They’d returned tonight, after she’d happily turned in a key essay proposal and resigned herself to rest. Frozen landscapes had taken over her dreams and left her to die in their midst, encased in ice and abandoned by the living world.

She’d woken with scorching tears streaming down her face and struggled to breathe as she’d dressed and left the flat behind.

She knows she looks worse than ever now, eyes swollen and silently beseeching Merlin to accept her appearance.  

The fear she knows is in her own eyes is reflected back in his. He doesn’t say anything, but implicit understanding works its way into his gaze, and she opens her mouth to try and elaborate.

Nothing more than a breathy sound comes out, and before she can try again, Merlin wraps his arms around her. She tenses for a moment, but his embrace sends much-needed reassurance rushing through her, and she relaxes into him.

He exudes warmth and silent support and everything she doesn’t know she needs, and the terror that had seeped through her slowly ebbs away with every second she spends in his arms. Her breathing slows, and she feels the faint press of Merlin’s lips against her hair as she tightens her own grip around his middle.

Exhaustion encourages her to close her eyes and she almost does, but Merlin pulls away with a sad smile and reaches for her hand. “Do you trust me?”

She nods and places her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. She trusts him more than she’s ever trusted anyone, and the realisation that she does makes her feel more secure than afraid. "I do."

Merlin gives her a small smile and steps away, tugging on her hand. “Come on, then.”

 

* * *

 

He closes up shop and leads her through a corridor that takes them to the lobby of their building. The passage is new to her, but she’s too tired to berate herself for never noticing the shortcut.

He pauses by the lift doors and looks at her with shy determination. “If you could sleep comfortably right now, where would you want it to be?”

“In my own bed, but that hasn’t exactly been working out very well.” She quirks an eyebrow, not sure what he’s suggesting.

Merlin nods and presses the button for the top floor.

Her heart sinks at the realization that he’s just taking her back to her flat, and she swallows thickly. “Merlin… I don’t want to be alone.”

He squeezes her hand and smiles. “You won’t be. I used to have nightmares, too. My dad died when I was still a kid, and I used to be afraid to go to sleep. I was convinced that I wouldn’t wake up, or that my mam would be gone when I did, so she used to sit with me.”

Her heart clenches at the thought of Merlin going through such pain at a young age, and she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

He gives her a small smile. “It’s okay. It’s been a long time, but we had a routine. Whenever I’d have nightmares in the years after that, we’d get our things and camp out in the living room and watch old films until we both fell asleep.”

She thinks back to her own childhood and how she'd been left alone with her demons and her therapists. "Your mum sounds lovely."

"She is." 

“So you’re going to stay with me?”

He suddenly looks shy, and hesitation works its way into his voice. “If you’d like me to.”

She nods and, beaming, leans up to brush her lips against his cheek. “I would love for you to.”

 

* * *

 

They debate dragging blankets and pillows into the sitting room, but traces of Uther surround them, and they settle on Morgana's bedroom instead.

Tension that has never existed between them fills the air at their change of space, but her bed calls out to her, and Morgana wants nothing more than to climb under the covers and finally feel safe again.

The pyjamas she’d taken off lay abandoned on the unmade bed, emerald green silk against downy white, and she hastily grabs them before offering to fetch him a pair of Arthur’s.

“I’m fine. I’ll just…” he trails off, gesturing at his clothes.

“You are not getting in my bed with those jeans.”

“What’s wrong with my jeans?”

“You’ve been wearing the same pair for three days.” She pauses, chiding herself for giving away that she’d noticed such a trivial thing, and quickly adds, “and I just changed my sheets!”

Merlin smirks and looks down, pink tainting his cheeks, and she knows he’s noticed her slip.

“Fine. I’d be happy to have a pair of Arthur’s pyjama bottoms then.”

She nods and leads him to Arthur’s room down the corridor. She pulls open a dresser drawer and prays not to come across anything she doesn’t want to see, but her worry is in vain. She finds it empty, a reminder that Arthur had cleared out most of his things after his last fight with Uther. Several other drawers are the same, but she finally comes across a spare and likely unwanted pair of pyjamas at the bottom of the dresser.

They’re dark blue and covered in little white dragons, and she smirks as she hands them over to Merlin. “I’m sure you’ll look adorable in these.” She winks and walks off before he can say anything.

She disappears into her ensuite to change back into her own pyjamas and re-tie her hair. Her reflection catches her attention, and she hates how splotchy and defeated she looks, but her body screams at her to leave things be and go to sleep.

Merlin is hesitantly hovering between her bed and the emerald green settee that sits in the corner when she steps back into her room. His back is turned to her, and he’s wearing a fitted white t-shirt over the dragon pyjamas. Her pulse quickens at the sight, and she wonders momentarily what it would be like to find him waiting for her every night.

She pauses, watching him until he moves to settle onto the settee.

“What are you doing?”

He gestures at the seat as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and she can’t help but laugh and blearily shake her head.

“No, no.”

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You won't. I promise."

“The whole point is for you to be able to sleep.”

“Well, I won’t be able to if you’re over there.”

He makes to object, and she shakes her head. “Merlin, I’m not just being polite. You’re doing me a favour by being here, and I don’t want _you_ to be uncomfortable and I promise you that settee is not a pleasant place to sleep – I’ve fallen asleep reading there many times, but I also want you to…” she trails off, not wanting to scare him away, not stopping to think that his presence is proof that nothing she can say will. “I don’t want to be alone. Please.”

He nods and moves towards her. “I accept, but I’m not here because I’m doing you a favour.”

“You’re not?”

She expects him to make a joke of some kind, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his gaze. “No. I’m here because I understand and I sympathize, and there’s nowhere else I would rather be right now.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime

He climbs in beside her, and she reaches over to grab the remote for the small television set across from the bed. “So, your technique demands that we watch a film?”

He smiles, and she settles into his side. “We can, but we can also talk.”

“Both sound nice.” She hands him the remote. “You choose.”

He settles on a screening of _Casablanca_ , and they exchange half-whispered comments until the world slowly fades to black.

 

* * *

 

She wakes gasping for breath, and the first thing she notices after ensuring that she is in fact alive and that her limbs haven't frozen to ice is that she's lying in her own bed, and Merlin is asleep beside her.

She’s warm, she’s safe, and yet the images keep playing through her mind. Daggers fly through the air, and she tries to regulate her breathing before she wakes him.

She breathes in and out and begins to count, but she doesn’t even get to ten before Merlin’s eyes open.

"Hey..." he mutters, shifting onto his elbow. "Nightmare?"

She nods, and he leans forward to place a kiss on her forehead. His lips linger, and tears fill her eyes, scorching her phantomly frozen skin.  

She sniffles, and his eyes open wider as he slides back down and lies to face her. She instinctively turns onto her side and shifts closer.

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Morgana."

"I’m going mad."

“No.”

“The dreams just keep getting worse.”

“Do you…” Merlin begins to ask but then reaches out and places his hand over hers in silent encouragement.

He’s never pushed her to open up about her dreams before, and she’s never wanted to. Yet, here, now, with so few barriers left between them, the words begin to spill out. She tells him about the ice and the daggers and being left for dead by everyone she loves. She tells him about the dungeons and the pyres and watching innocent people burn at the stake. She tells him about Uther condemning everyone and everything and laughing at their pain, and Merlin just listens.

He offers no commentary, no judgement, but his expression grows sadder and he seems to move almost imperceptibly closer with every dream.

Morgana speaks until she begins to drift off, unburdened, and the last thing she feels is the weight of Merlin’s hand settling on her waist and the soft sensation of him whispering words she’ll deny having heard.

 

* * *

 

The next time Morgana wakes, it's to fingers ghosting across her arm and the faint smell of coffee wafting through the air. Contentment washes through her, and she marvels at how rested she feels.

" _Morgana_."

Smiling, she hums and cracks an eye open. Light that’s much too bright to be early morning seeps in through the window, and she stills as schedules and obligations run through her mind.

"What time is it?"

"It's five after eleven."

She groans and sits up, leaning against the cushioned headboard. “I have a class after lunch.”

Merlin’s sitting cross-legged on the bed beside her, a cup of coffee cradled in his hands and hair adorably mussed. He’s still wearing the dragon pyjamas, but he’s pulled his jumper back on and is calmly listening to her.

“I know. I wouldn’t have woken you otherwise.”

He looks regretful, and she half wishes he’d let her sleep the day away. Still, she refuses to start missing classes in the midst of the turmoil and is grateful that he’d woken her.  “Thank you.”

He smiles and nods towards the cup on her bedside table. “I thought you would need coffee.”

“Always.” She grins and reaches for the very welcome drink. “You figured out how to use our espresso machine, then?”

“I _am_ a barista.”

“And a rather good one at that.”

“So _now_ you admit it?”

Morgana shrugs, taking a sip of her coffee. “I wouldn’t let a mediocre one sleep in my bed, now would I?”

“I should hope not.” Merlin struggles to keep a straight face, and he begins to crack a smile. “Honestly though, I don’t see why you’re always downstairs when you have such a nice machine up here.”

“Company can be as important as quality. More so, even.” She looks down and takes another sip, smirking as she adds, “And neither Arthur nor I ever figured out how to use it.”

“Somehow I’m not surprised about Arthur, but you?”

“Well I couldn’t be bothered to learn with such a good coffee shop downstairs.”

Merlin shakes his head, eyes twinkling all the while. “I could teach you.”

“It hardly seems fair to ask you to spend your free time doing what you do for work.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” He pauses and all teasing disappears from his demeanour. “How did you sleep?”

“Better than I have in ages. Thank you.” Her voice dips as she speak. “Truly, Merlin. I haven’t felt this rested in a long time.”

“I'm glad.”   

They stay quiet for a moment, exchanging smiles and drinking their coffee, but then she remembers the way they’d left the shop the night before.

“Is Gaius terribly mad?”

Merlin frowns. “Why would –? Ah. No. Will messaged me to say he opened back up at six, and Gaius was nowhere to be found. I don’t even think he knows.”

“I hope he doesn't find out, then. I wouldn't want you getting in trouble because of me."

"I doubt Gaius would even raise an eyebrow." 

Morgana smiles and reaches over to put her cup down. “I need to get ready.”

Merlin nods. “So do I. I have a workshop, and I promised Will I’d pop in to help with the inventory first.”

She sighs and stands. “I don’t want to go.”

“Neither do I.”

“Can we do this again? Preferably without the nightmares?”

“I’d like that. I’m not working tomorrow night… or on Saturday if that’s too soon.”

“No, no, tomorrow would be excellent." She grins, happy that he's suggesting a date so soon. "We can actually watch films, and I’ll cook.”

Merlin gives her a lopsided smile as he stands. “You can cook?”

“Well. I’ve been told I’m quite skilled when it comes to pasta… and ordering in.”

Merlin laughs. “Pasta sounds excellent, and I can teach you to use your espresso machine… on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“That you don’t stop visiting the shop.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all of your messages/support after the last chapter! This is another slightly fluffy one, but things should pick up in the next one (and I'm giving up on predicting the number of chapters this going to be).

"You should get a cat."

Morgana stops typing and looks up from her perch at the counter. It’s shortly after midnight, and despite her determination to make it through the night on her own, she’d stopped in at the coffee shop after spending the entirety of her afternoon and evening at the library. The same group of undergraduates is back from earlier in the month, forcing her to take over the counter bar with her laptop and books.

Merlin is leaning against the opposite side of the counter, perched over a copy of the local paper, his free hand lingering near her keyboard.  

"I'm sorry?"

Merlin places a finger on the page in front of him and stops reading to meet her gaze as he repeats himself, "I think you should get a cat."

Not an ounce of humour laces his voice, and Morgana's mouth begins to twist into a wry, half smile. "Are you trying to say that I strike you as a cat person?"

Merlin smirks back her at her. "No. Yes? An unconventional one, perhaps? But that's not why I'm suggesting it."

She quirks her brow. "You have my attention."

He points to his spot on the page. "I just read an announcement about an unwanted litter of kittens at the animal shelter, and it made me think about a study I was reading on how --”

"How can they have an _unwanted_ litter of kittens?"

Merlin smirks. "Not a cat person?"

Morgana shrugs. She was one, had had a fluffy tabby cat as a child, but Uther had gotten rid of the animal when she'd moved in with him, and pets had quickly become a thing of the past. “Just tell me about the poor, little kittens."

"They're an unconventional breed, and the announcement says the shelter is going to need to put them down if they don't get adopted by the end of the week."

“That's awful! How unconventional can they be that people don't want fluffy, little kittens?"

"That's just it. They aren't fluffy. They’re sphinx cats.”

Morgana’s eyes light up, and remembering the fascination she had with the animals several years earlier, she asks, “Those adorable, hairless cats? Like the one they had on _Friends_?”

Merlin laughs pushing away from the counter. “The one they thought was inside out? that hissed and clawed at everyone?”

She grins and nods. “That one. I’ve wanted one of those ever since! When can we go?” She hits save and shuts her laptop.

“I thought you’d need more convincing than that. You don’t even want to hear about the study?”

“Is it about how having a pet can significantly lower stress levels?”

“Yes.”

"Common knowledge.” She grins and hops off the bar stool, reaching for her things.  

“Where are you going?”

She looks up from buttoning her coat to find Merlin bemusedly frowning at her.

“To the animal shelter?”

“It’s after midnight, Morgana.”

“They’re going to kill innocent kittens.”

“They’re probably closed.”

“ _Merlin_.”

“ _Morgana_.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I came up with the idea!”

“And now you don’t think I should go!”

“Because,” he pauses and pulls out his phone and does a quick search, before continuing, “they are indeed closed, and you need to make sure you have everything you need before you bring the cat home.”

“How much stuff can a cat possibly need?”

“You’d be surprised.” Merlin beams, and the agitation begins to leave her. “Listen, if you still want to adopt the cat -”

“Cats.”

Merlin quirks a brow but continues, “ _Cats_ in the morning, then I’ll go with you and help you set up.”

“Okay.” She sits back down, coat still buttoned up, and smiles at him, somehow feeling calm again. “I’m sorry for getting…” She trails off and gestures with a single hand. “It’s just that the thought of innocent creatures getting killed just because they’re different is too much.”

Arthur’s affectionate eye rolls and Uther’s exasperated sighs at her causes rush through her mind, and she almost expects Merlin to show similar judgement. She knows better, and yet, despite everything he’s done and said to suggest that he shares her views, she finds her breath catching in her throat as the look in his eyes simultaneously softens and lights up and his voice fills with such compassion when he says a quiet, “I know.”

“You do?”

“Of course. It’s honestly why I brought it up. I knew I could count on you to save the day.”

“I thought you brought it up because it would help me sleep?”

His expression curls into one of amusement. “Who says you can’t do both at the same time?”

She gives him a close-mouthed smile and looks down to where their hands lay on the counter. They’re only centimetres away, and she moves to place hers over his. “Thank you.”

“You need to stop thanking me, Morgana.”

She looks back up to him then, coaxed by the lowered cadence of his voice, and there’s no denying what she’s known for days if not weeks. She’s falling for Merlin quickly, deeply, if she hasn’t fallen already. She squeezes his hand, and they both stay quiet until one of the students woots across the shop and draws their attention away.

They roll their eyes at each other, and Merlin grins. “I might adopt one of the kittens, too.”

“Won’t Gaius mind?”

Merlin shrugs. “I’m sure he’d understand, and besides, I’m not going to live with him forever.”

She nods and looks down, fidgeting with the zipper on her emerald green laptop case.

“What is it?”

She shrugs and hopes the rush of emotions fighting to come to the surface will stave off before she further embarrasses herself in front of Merlin. With Arthur and Gwen gone and the world still falling apart around her, she doesn’t want to think of anything else changing.

Taking a deep breath, she says, “It’s nothing. I should probably go to sleep. I have a thesis workshop in the morning.”

Merlin cringes. “Group or one on one?”

“Group.” Morgana rolls her eyes. “I’m just glad it’s almost over.”

“Well we’ll make up for it afterwards.”

“With kittens?” she asks, grinning.

“With kittens. What time do you finish?”

“At half past ten. We can meet here at around eleven? You don’t have class tomorrow?”

He shakes his head with a grin. “I’m all yours.”

“Excellent.” Smiling, she leans across the counter and pecks him on the cheek. “Good night, then.”

“Good night, Morgana.”

She picks up her already-packed bag and hops off the barstool and makes to step towards the door.

“And Morgana?”

She turns back around to find the flirty expressions gone and raises her brow.

“I’m here if you need anything.” He nods towards the group of students. “I’ll make them leave in a heartbeat.”

Her stomach flips, and she gives him a lopsided smile. “Thank you, Merlin.”

 

* * *

 

They meet in front of the coffee shop the next morning, she after her thesis workshop and he after having slept in. He’s wearing a ridiculous knit, green hat against the cold and looks scruffier than she’s seen him, and though she laughs at the sight of him, she kisses him on the cheek and loops her arm through his.

He pulls her closer, as if there’s nothing to it, and she wonders how and when they’d slipped into this state of intimacy. They aren’t together; they technically aren’t anything more than very close friends, but she knows they look like a couple to the outside world.

She squeezes his arm and leads the way towards the animal shelter, wondering if she can persuade him to stop at an old café for a late breakfast on their way there. She’d had nothing more than coffee and a scone Gaius had slipped into her order that morning, and she’s famished.

“How was the rest of your shift?”

“Deathly quiet. I take it you finally slept through the night?”

She hums in vague acquiescence and gives him a small smile. She’d slept for the few hours that she’d been able to, but her dreams had stopped her from resting, dragging her from one nightmare scenario to another and refusing her the refuge of consciousness. She doesn’t want to tell him though and make him think her even more troubled than she is.

He doesn’t question her agreement, and asks, “How was the workshop?”

“Brilliant!” At that, she grins. The workshop had made up for her night, and given her the boost she needed. “Well, I was brilliant. The others, not so much.” She knows she sounds cocky, but the professor’s praises still ring in her ear and she’s particularly happy with how the session had gone.

Merlin bumps her side and looks down at her with a smile that rivals hers. “I’m not at all surprised.”

“You haven’t even read my latest chapter yet.”

“Can I?”

“Of course.”

They ramble on about their respective mornings until Morgana spots the café, nestled between a bookshop and a florist’s.

 

* * *

 

“Morgana, you can’t adopt all of them!”

“But they’re so cute!” Only four of the kittens are left by the time they get to the animal shelter. The tiniest, palest one attaches himself to Morgana, purring every time she passes him by, and she finally scoops him up in her arms. “Look how cute he is, Merlin!”

“He’s adorable.” He reaches over and scratches the kitten between his ears, and it purrs, pushing against his hand. “We should definitely take him home.” He pauses, reddening, and then quickly reforms his sentence, “ _You_ should definitely take him home.”

She gives him a close-mouthed smile, pulse quickening at his mistake, and hands the kitten over to him. “ _And_ this one!” She reaches for another kitten, but its brother loudly hisses in Merlin’s arms as it crawls onto her palm.

Merlin bursts out laughing and the kitten returns to purring as Morgana puts the other one down. “They’re all adorable, but this one won’t even let the others near you!”

Morgana pouts, and the assistant who’d led them over to the kittens explains that the breed tends to be jealous. “We don’t advise couples to adopt more than one. Just the one can get jealous of either of you, but he seems to be taken with both of you.”

“Oh, we don’t live -” Merlin begins, flushing, but looks to Morgana and stops at her grin.

The assistant smirks and steps away, promising to call them if none of the other kittens are adopted by the end of the week, and they leave the shelter with only one cat in tow.

 

* * *

 

“What should we name him?”

“He’s your cat, Morgana.”

She walks over to the sofa and sets two steaming cups of tea onto the table before it. “You’re the one sprawled on the ground with him.”

It’s late in the afternoon, and they’re back in Morgana’s flat, surrounded by cat toys and pillows, and Merlin is lying on the plush, dark red carpet before the fireplace, stomach down and waving a feathered toy in front of the kitten.

She eyes the sofa, but settles on the ground beside them. The kitten mews and drops the toy in favour of Morgana. “You’re possessive, aren’t you?” she teases and picks it up.

“Do you have any ideas?”

“He’s so pale, I think maybe the name should have something to do with the light, maybe? And something medieval.”

Merlin hums and tries to lure the kitten away with the feather. “You could name him after a manuscript illumination. Manilu or something.”

“Very funny.”

“I was just reading about a white dragon associated to the light. He saves a sorceress and bonds with her when she thinks all is lost. They live in the woods together.”

Morgana stills. “I know that story.”

Merlin pushes himself up and crawls into a sitting position inches away from her. “You’ve read it, too?” His eyes sparkle, and he adds, “I found it in a rare manuscript, but it seems more in line with your research.”

Morgana wordlessly shakes her head. She scratches the kitten between its ears and takes a deep breath. “I dreamt it. I’ve dreamt that story several times.”

“Maybe you read about it somewhere and it just worked its way into your subconscious?”

“Maybe,” she whispers. “It is a nice dream though, at least in comparison to the others. What’s the dragon called in your story?”

“Aithusa.”

Her breath hitches at the name, its familiarity echoing through her. She hadn’t heard it in the dream, but there’s no denying that it’s a name she knows wells.  

“Morgana?”

Merlin is frowning at her when she looks up, and she forces her lips to curve into a reassuring smile, not wanting to burden him with whatever’s happening to her. “Sorry. It’s perfect. I’ve just definitely heard it before. What do you think?” She turns her gaze towards the kitten and lifts it into the air. “Do you want to be Aithusa?”

“He does look like an Aithusa.”

“He does.”

“And he’s bound to be as loyal of a pet as the dragon.”

“I hope so…” she trails off, placing Aithusa on the carpet beside her and reaching over for the cups of tea. “I always wake up feeling calmer after those dreams, even if I see the most terrible things beforehand.” She hands Merlin his cup and takes a sip out of her own. “Ugh. I don’t even know why I bother with tea.”

“You don’t like it?” Merlin questions before taking a sip of his own.

“I do, but I know it isn’t going to be of any use, and the knowledge is starting to make it taste bad.”

“I could never live without tea, but I know what you mean. I can’t have it if I have work to get done.”

“Exactly.”

“It’s a good thing we both have the day off then.”

 

* * *

 

 

They forget the time, trading stories and turns playing with Aithusa, and  they end up sprawling out in front of the fireplace long after the kitten falls asleep.

“This is nice,” Merlin murmurs, leaning against the table beside her, legs stretched out .

“It is,” Morgana agrees. She’s lying on her back, eyes closed, on the verge of falling asleep, and feeling far more at home than she has in weeks. “I think I’m going to keep the flat.”

“Yeah?”

“Uther was rarely home, and Mum loved it here. Arthur loved it here. I shouldn’t have to let it go because Uther tried to ruin everything. I can redecorate and just get rid of every trace of Uther.”

“That sounds like a good solution.”

“I’ll keep all of our stuff and Mum’s. I think Arthur would agree.”

“Have you heard from him?”

She shakes her head and flips onto her stomach. “I think he’s still holed up with Gwen somewhere, but I haven’t heard from either of them in weeks now.” Merlin gives her a sad smile, and she adds, “I can’t say I blame them. I’d want to go off and hide in either of their situations. I _do_ want to go off and hide because of all of this, without the pain they have. I just don’t want them to feel like they’re coming back to a hostile place when they do. If they do.”

“Do you have anything from Arthur’s mum left for him?”

Morgana lets out a puff of air, quietly laughing. “Ah, that’s where it gets complicated. Arthur’s mum _is_ my mum.”

“You’re half-siblings! I thought you were step-siblings.”

Morgana shakes her head, hair falling the rest of the way out of the messy bun she’d put it into. “We aren’t even that. We’re full siblings.”

Merlin frowns, taking a moment to answer, “But that would make Uther your father?”

“My biological one, yes, but not my legal one.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Really, the only thing you need to understand is that Uther is the worst type of man that there is. He and my dad - my legal father, were best friends. They were business partners and everything, and Uther betrayed him like he betrayed Tom. Except that instead of framing him for a crime, he seduced my mum while my dad was away on a trip. And then a few weeks after I was born, Mum left my dad for Uther, and they had Arthur. He isn’t even a full year younger than me.”

Merlin looks visibly taken aback, but he keeps his voice even and asks, “And you?”

“My dad fought to keep me, and he did, but then when I was six, Uther wanted him out of the company and told him the truth about me, and I went to live with him and Mum.”

“And that’s why you call him your stepfather.”

Morgana nods. “He may be responsible for my existence, and I may have lived with him for most of my life, but he isn’t the man who loved me when I was a kid. I was a pawn to him, and he’d have no trouble using me as one again.”  
Merlin doesn’t answer, but reaches out towards her but drops his hand midway, at a loss. “Do you still see your dad?”

“He’s dead.”

“Morgana...” Merlin trails off.

She swallows, picking at a loose thread in the carpet. “He killed himself after he found out.” She’d only ever told Gwen the truth about the circumstances of his death, having found it out for herself shortly after her mum had died.

Uther had done everything to conceal the truth, and Gorlois’s death had been covered in the media as a premature heart attack. She’d only found out because she’d begun suspecting Uther of unethical behaviour and had cracked the code to his safe when he’d gone away on a trip and left her alone. She’d never told Arthur, not wanting to add to his own problems with Uther.

“I’m so sorry.”

She shrugs. “It was a long, long time ago.”  

“That doesn’t make it any easier.”

She remembers what Merlin had said about losing his own father, and she swallows. “No, it doesn’t. But being able to tell someone does.”

Merlin smiles. “Thank you for telling me.”

She smiles back, extremely thankful for his presence in her life. Another wave of emotions begin to rush to the surface, and not wanting to deal with them, she pushes off the ground and holds her hand out to him. “Pasta always helps, too. Come on.”

Merlin laughs and hops up. “I thought you were going to cook?”

“I am! But you’re going to keep me company, and,” she pauses to dig through the handbag she’d tossed onto the sofa and pulls out her phone, “you’re going to find music for us to listen to.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your comments on the previous chapter! I hope you're enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it. I apologize for taking so much longer with this update, but I'm also a swamped grad student, and the last few weeks have been a bit hectic.
> 
> (And for those wondering, certain other characters will be making an appearance in the very near future.)

They settle on listening to an Irish artist both Merlin and Morgana like, and melancholic melodies about dead lovers and eerie woods wash through the air as Morgana cooks and Merlin leans against the kitchen counter. He chats and quietly jokes, keeping his eyes anchored on her all the while.

A newly familiar tug makes itself known in her chest. She’s never been one to be shy, to hesitate, but everything about his presence in her home fills her with happy nerves and she finds herself hoping that the night is only the first of many.

He offers to help, claiming that he actually enjoys to cook, but Morgana insists on doing everything herself, intent on proving that she can in fact cook, and only allows Merlin to hand her the ingredients she has laid out on the counter. His fingers brush against hers as he does so, lingering a little longer each time, and she knows it’s just a matter of time until one of them doesn’t let go.

Lost in her thoughts, she dumps more than the usual amount of cayenne pepper into the sauce she’s making, forgetting that she’s already sliced in a generous amount of pepperoncino, and doesn’t notice until Merlin pushes away from his perch and comes to stand beside her in horror.

“Just how much did you put in there?!”

“Not that much?”

“It looked like much.”

“It’s not _that_ hot, Merlin.” She dips the wooden spoon into the sauce and samples it before holding it out for Merlin. “See?”

She watches as Merlin takes a cautious mouthful, holding back laughter when he goes from looking appreciative to spluttering within seconds.

Reining her amusement in to a grin, she rolls her eyes and takes another taste for herself. The tomatoes and onions melodiously mix together and the peppers add a pleasant edge. She smiles and momentarily closes her eyes to savour the taste.

“Do you honestly mean to say that isn’t spicy for you?”

She shrugs and the spice that had barely phased her seconds earlier hits her a little harder in its aftertaste, and mid-triumphant eyebrow raise, she coughs and has to concede. “Okay, maybe it’s a little on the too-spicy side. Hand me the vodka? and another tomato?”

 

* * *

 

They eat sitting at the island in the kitchen, knees knocking together and smiling at each other over generously filled glasses of red wine.

Pushing the gnocchi about on her plate, Morgana marvels at the ease of it all. She’s never enjoyed dating, preferring to flirt and run before awkward meals and obligations arise, but everything she’s avoided with others comes easily with Merlin.  

That they’ve skipped passed all the other stuff and slipped straight into whatever it is that they have… well, she can’t say she minds. In fact, it’s the first time she hasn’t minded the thought of relationship, and the unspoken promise of it fills her with elation.

“What is it?”

She looks up to find Merlin watching her, barely holding back a crooked smile, and realizes she’s been smiling at her plate.

“It’s nothing.” She picks up her glass and sips, feeling heat rush to her cheeks. She’s thankful to have opted for the wine. She hasn’t been drinking much lately, having discovered how much more violent her dreams become when she does, but she feels confident that they’ll stay away tonight.

“Mhm,” he concedes, happiness laced into his sing-songy reply, and he looks as if he’s going to say something more, but then his phone begins to ring from the other room.

He hesitates as it rings a second time and frowns when Morgana’s begins to ring when his goes silent. She has her ringer turned off, save for certain numbers, causing her own brow to crease at the sound, and she hops off her perch to look for the phone in her bag.

She finds it in the living room and digs it out. “It’s Gaius.” Gaius never calls her, let alone at night, and dread fills her as she answers.

The dread proves to be founded as he says something about Hunith and urgently needing to speak to Merlin.

Merlin wanders away from the table as he takes the call, and Morgana watches his face fall through the brief conversation. He nods as Gaius speaks, asking questions and knotting his hand in his hair, and she knows that whatever he’s hearing isn’t good.

Hanging up, he fidgets with her phone. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. They don’t know what happened, but Mum’s in hospital and she isn’t conscious, and they think I should go out. Gaius got me on the last flight out tonight, and I have to leave now if I want to make it in time.”    
She nods, and anger rises within her. It isn’t fair that everyone she loves is suffering, that Merlin has to, too.  “I’m so sorry, Merlin.”

“She’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.”

His voice starts out as steady but then quavers at the end, and he looks so unsure that she steps over and wraps her arms around him in a hug.

“She will be,” she says, putting all of her stubbornness into her words. That she doesn’t have any power in the matter doesn’t matter. She refuses to see Merlin go through the same pain as Gwen.   

Merlin tightens his arms around her. “Thank you.”

She moves away the slightest bit and reaches up to cup his cheek. “Is there anything I can do? If there’s _anything_ that would make things easier for you…” She hesitates and considers offering to go with him, but she fears that it would be too much, too soon.

She brushes her thumb across the slight stubble on his cheek, and he presses into her touch.“No. Just..” he trails off, voice dropping. His gaze flickers to her lips, and he moves closer, pausing only to meet her eye for approval. The corners of her mouth quirk upwards, and he bridges the gap between them, brushing his lips against hers.

It’s a soft, chaste kiss, but it manages to communicate in seconds what she’s been afraid to recognize for weeks. Comfort courses through her, even as her heart aches for him, and she understands that she isn’t falling for Merlin but has fallen already. When Merlin pulls away but rests his forehead against hers and tightens his grip around her waist, the words he’d whispered as she’d fallen asleep the other night come back to her, and she knows he feels the same.

 

* * *

 

Morgana insists on driving Merlin to the airport, and she pulls up to the drop-off curb just in time for him to be able rush through security.

"Call me when you get there?"

"I will." He squeezes her hand before jumping out of the car and slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder. He leans down beside her open window and adds, “And I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Merlin nods and leans forward to kiss her on the corner of her mouth, before running into the terminal.

Morgana watches him disappear, and for a brief moment, her anger turns so that it isn't the additional suffering that makes her upset but the fact even Merlin is being taken from her.

She knows she's being selfish, that she doesn't need him beside her when Hunith needs him more, but days of solitude, with nothing but books and terror-filled nights loom ahead of her, no Merlin, no Gwen, no Arthur, and the anger drives her as she steps on the pedal and pulls away from the curb.

She takes her time going home, listening to music and deciding to take local roads into the city. Driving through the dark calms her, and the shift in her emotions leaves her exhausted by the time she does make it back to the flat and collapses onto her bed with Aithusa and the promise of a phone call.

 

* * *

  

The first few days of Merlin’s trip go smoothly. Hunith’s injuries turn out to be serious but not life threatening, having been knocked over by a reckless driver and shattered her leg, and Merlin stays with her, first in hospital, then at home, to help her adjust to her newly limited mobility. Morgana offers to fly out and help, and Gaius insists on taking over, but Merlin won’t hear of it from either of them, at least until he gets things under control.

“He’s always been stubborn,” Gaius laments. “He’ll do anything in his power to help others, but he won’t accept anyone else doing the same for him.”

Morgana smiles, mindlessly stirring her mocha as she leans back in her chair. It’s early by her standards, only ten p.m. or so, but she’s planning to spend at least half the night in the shop, working her way through the first draft of her next chapter at her secluded corner table. She’s been extremely productive over the past few days, free from nightmares and new developments with the scandal, and she doesn’t want to break her streak. “I’m not at all surprised.”

Gaius shakes his head at the thought of his nephew. “I should have gone with him in the first place. Do you know he did something like this when he was a child? Hunith fell ill with a fever a few months after his father passed away, and he didn’t even call me. He went through the medical books I’d left behind and he claims to have called their physician, but he took care of her on his own, and she recovered far more quickly than should have been possible.”

“How old was he?”

“Eight or nine.”

Morgana’s eyes widen, and she thinks back to herself at that age. She’d been a compassionate child, but she’d been quiet and angry and more interested in fencing and tormenting Arthur than nursing anyone back to health. “And he didn’t turn out to be a physician?”

Gaius chuckles. “He’s always put duty and passion first. He would have made an excellent physician, but there’s never been anything but history for him.” Sighing, Gaius gets up from his chair. “I’m flying out at the end of the week whether he likes it or not. It’s been six days now, and he needs to get back to his classes.”

“His professors have been understanding.”

“I’m sure they have, and so have you, but he’ll never admit to needing help, and he’ll refuse to leave until Hunith gets back on her feet. Besides, Hunith is my little sister. Looking after her is just as much my responsibility as it is his.”

Morgana smirks at the elderly man and takes another sip of her drink. “I’d like to see you try to tell Merlin that.” She’s spent hours on the phone with Merlin over the past few days, listening to every detail on his time in Dublin and more often than not, falling asleep with the phone beside her, and she has no doubt Gaius has quite the task ahead of him.  

 

* * *

 

Morgana gets distracted after she heads back up to her flat. She makes progress on her chapter in the coffee shop, and over-caffeinated and not in the least bit tired, she decides to spend the rest of the night clearing away Uther’s things.

The picture frames in the living room are already gone. She’d pulled them all down the morning the news about Gwen’s father had broken, in an attempt to at least superficially free herself from Uther’s shadow.

The ones in his study, however, remain intact, and she’s met with a sea of his images. He has photos with her and Arthur and Ygraine on every shelf, and guilt washes over as she takes in the smiling, frozen faces around her.

Uther is behind every miserable moment of her life, and his actions of the past few weeks are unforgivable. She has no doubt that he deserves a fate far worse than being disowned by his family, but the photographs remind her that he is, despite it all, her father and that he did love her and Arthur through all the bullying and deceit.

He smiles down at her from the wall behind his desk, an arm wrapped around each of them, and the anger with which she’d walked into the room abates and mixes with sadness.

She doesn’t know if she’s ever loved Uther. She’d hated him with every fibre of her being as a child for taking her real father away from, but she’d tried to forgive him in her teens, tired of living in anger and terrified of being orphaned after her mother had fallen ill. A ghost of affection glides through her as she considers the photograph and the memories of those years rush back to her. He’d taken a bitter turn in the past year, but there was no denying that he’d doted on her and there had been hope for their relationship for a while.

Meowing, Aithusa comes up behind her and brushes against her bare ankles. Swooping down, she scratches the kitten between the ears and scoops her into her arms. “This wasn’t a very good idea, was it?”

Holding Aithusa to her chest, she decides to get the task ahead of her over quickly and steps over to Uther’s liquor cabinet to pour herself a finger of whisky to make it easier. She considers the danger of her nightmares but decides the latter pain will be worth her current comfort.

The whisky burns as she drinks it down, and she sets Aithusa on Uther’s desk and gets to work.

 

* * *

 

Having cleared all but the gaudy, oil painting of Uther and Arthur that hangs over the fireplace out of the room and into an increasingly heavy box, she pours herself more whisky and curls up in the overstuffed leather armchair that sits against the bookshelves with a photo album she’d found hidden at the back of a shelf.

It’s filled with photographs of Uther and Ygraine looking much younger and more carefree than she’s used to picturing, and she loses herself in the feelings of uneasy sadness that had threatened her as she’d undertaken the task.

The pictures of her mother stare back at her, and Morgana realizes Ygraine was younger than she is now when she’d married Gorlois, and not more than a handful of years older when she’d betrayed him for Uther. Blonde and blue eyed, Ygraine looks little like her at first glance, but she recognizes pieces of herself in the photos of her mother.

She’d been far more sombre in her later years, and Morgana wonders what it would have been to better know the carefree, smiling woman in the photos. She knows Ygraine had played an active role in betraying Gorlois and destroying her childhood, but her mother had always been so loving with her and Arthur that Morgana had never been able to bring herself to hate her. She’d loved her more freely than she’d ever even considered loving Uther, and recognizing that Ygraine had visibly loved Uther unsettles her. Her eyes burn as the man she’d easily criminalized gains in humanity and pushes her to consider that his despicable actions of the past years had been driven by broken-hearted loneliness.

The realization does nothing to excuse either of her parents, but it fills her with terror as she finds that she can understand their feelings. She has no trouble imaging a future in which she drives everyone in her life away through her troubles and her nightmares. The possibility of loneliness and despair loom ahead of her, and she lets the album fall to the ground.

Aithusa is startled from sleep at the movement and, meowing, jumps off the desk and into Morgana’s lap. Setting the empty tumbler down on the table beside her, she focuses her attention on the cat, thankful that she isn’t home alone.

 

* * *

 

She falls asleep towards morning, and the whisky plays its part, waking her shortly thereafter with her own screams.

The visions from her dream continue to flash before her eyes and she gives in to tears. The bedclothes burn around her, and she sees herself betraying the people she loves as Uther watches on with a smile. She sends Arthur and Gwen to their graves and then she turns on Uther and his pride with a knife, and the tears run down her face with more and more intensity until her entire body is wracked by sobs.

A wave of nausea hits her in disgust at her supposed actions as the scenes play over and over, and she dashes out of bed. The cold air hits her scorched skin, and the world spins before her as she tries to find her footing, threatening to go black. She somehow makes it through the door of her en-suite before it does, only to be met with swirling darkness and cool, marble tiles against her face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So good news and bad news... Bad news is I had a much fluffier version of this chapter written earlier in the week and then deleted it and started from scratch. Good news is I've thoroughly plotted out the rest of the story and this "two-three chapters tops" fic now looks like it's going to be more like twenty. So this universe is here for the long haul. That being said though, I also have about 60 pages of papers to write in the next six weeks. I procrastinate a lot, but I don't know how quickly the chapters will be coming... 
> 
> Many thanks to my best friend both for helping me plot and for looking over this chapter. <3

New visions hit and send her hurtling through the worst of her nightmares. They’re the same ones she always sees, but she stands in Uther’s place, condemning and killing. And yet she’s villain and victim alike, losing her head on the chopping block and perishing in the flames. Tremors rip through her body, and she wakes terrified and alone.

Her arm is awkwardly trapped beneath her, guarding her face from the cold, bathroom tiles, and memories of the early morning rush back to her as pain runs through her wrist and reminds her of the fall. She hisses, pain and images whirling together, and pushes herself off the ground.

Aithusa is at her side instantly, meowing in what sounds curiously like concern, and gently paws at her. Sniffling, Morgana cradles him to her chest and presses a kiss to the top of his wrinkly head. The tears come on faster as she does, terrified of being left all alone except for the tiny creature in her arms, and she leans her head back against the wall and cries, desperate to make the dreams stop and the haunting images go away.

 

* * *

 

“ _I’ll come home_.”

“You are home, Merlin. I can’t ask you to leave your mother because I can’t cope with a few dreams.”

She’s bundled up back in her bed, wrapped in the fluffy, silk lined duvet that soothes her even if it doesn’t keep the nightmares at bay. Heavy, blackout shades keep the bright, early spring sunshine out of the room, and she wills the hours from passing too quickly. Every inch of her body aches from the tortured few hours of sleep, and exhaustion seeps from every pore.

She knows staying home is the first step to losing control, but she doesn’t have it in her to face anyone today. She hasn’t left the flat, hasn’t even gone down to get her morning coffee from Gaius.

Instead she’s spent the past hour talking to Merlin, phone propped up on an unused pillow and switched to speaker mode. The sound of his voice calms her, and despite the objections she makes, she wants nothing more than for him to come back so she can wrap herself up in it in person.

“ _They’re more than just dreams, Morgana, and I’d come back even if they weren’t_.”

“I thought you were dead set on staying put no matter what?”

“ _Well_.”  

She hears the hesitant emotion in his voice and smiles into her pillow, not needing for him to say anything more.

“Have you spoken to Gaius?”

“ _He’s coming on Friday. Whether I like it or not, apparently. I think he’ll be happy to come even sooner if I ask him to_.”

“No doubt. Stay until Friday, though. I won’t have you leaving your mum when you get to spend so little time with her as it is, and I’ll be fine for two more days.”

A pressure makes itself known in her chest as she speaks, and she silently berates herself for refusing to ask for help when he’s so ready to give it. Two days may not be long, but they stretch out like an eternity before her.

“ _Are you sure?”_

He sounds deflated, and she tells herself it’s her chance to change her mind. She knows Gaius will gladly get on the next plane to Dublin, and that Merlin will be beside her before nightfall if he does. They'll go through with the plans they’d had to abandon and curl up to watch the films they’d picked out and left untouched.

But she also knows that she needs to stand on her own two feet and at least try to defeat it by herself.

“Positive.”

“ _Morgana_.”

“I’ll be fine, Merlin. Just stay on the phone a bit longer?”

 

* * *

 

"Tell me more about the sorceress in the Aithusa story?" she asks as the cat curls up beside the phone and purrs.

 _"I thought you were trying to take your mind off of work and rest?"_ Merlin asks, amusement evident in his tone.

"I _am_ resting, but I still need to think while I do. Please?"

" _Fine. Then I need to tell you about the warlock and the dragonlord first._ "

“Ooh, there are more characters involved?”

 _“Just one_.”

“Do tell.”

She burrows into her pillow and closes her eyes as he tells her about a young warlock who loves the sorceress but is pulled away when he takes over the role of last living dragonlord from his father. He hatches the white, baby dragon who goes to save her, and then gets pulled into a war he fails to escape with his life.

She can’t help the feeling of foreboding that runs through her as she listens, but the story resonates and appeals to her.

"It's rather romantic when you think about it."

“ _He dies. They don’t get to live their lives together_.”

“No, but he hatches the dragon, and the dragon goes to her and heals her and keeps her company when he can’t. He sends someone to help her when he can’t and stays with her in his way.”

“ _I suppose it is, then_ , _but I prefer romances to have happy endings._ "

“How would you have had the story go then?”

“ _He would have survived the war, with her help, and then he would have gone to her, and they would have lived together in the woods with the dragon.”_

“Happily ever after?”

“ _You think it sounds stupid.”_

“No. Not at all. It’s lovely.”

They remain silent, and she mulls it over, wondering how it was that pieces of the story had worked itself into her dreams while others hadn’t.    

A far-fetched hypothesis is on the tip of her tongue when Merlin breaks the silence and makes her wish she’d never come up with it.

" _I miss you, Morgana."_

 

* * *

 

A bit longer stretches into much more as her paranoid thoughts fade away and the cadence of his voice lulls her into much-needed sleep. Dreams don’t even scratch the surface of her consciousness, and it’s well into the afternoon when she rises.

She stays in her pyjamas, determined to remain as comfortable as possible, and pulls a soft, cashmere jumper over the emerald silk. She pads through the flat and into the kitchen to make coffee before the dull ache in her head turns into anything more as the caffeine withdrawal works through her system.

Merlin’s hastily scrawled instructions sit beside the espresso machine, and she gives it a whirl, managing to extract two unburnt shots for the first time. She adds a bit of steamed milk and sips, puckering her lips when the beverage doesn’t quite taste like the ones Gaius and Merlin make for her below.

Still, it isn’t terrible and she drinks at the kitchen counter, booting up her laptop.

 

* * *

 

After the past few weeks of silence, she doesn’t expect to find any articles, but she looks anyway. She goes through her news alerts and networks and AP, and find she does.

Dozens of new articles about Uther playing the role of victim appear, and her anger rises back to the surface, all traces of dormant sympathy disappearing into rage. She knows she should x out of the articles, but she reads them anyway, one by one, seeping in indignation. Uther places Tom in the role of the villain, painting him as an irresponsible CFO with a secret substance abuse problem and then likens him to her own father.

And then he announces his intention to return to London.

At that, her breath hitches, and she reaches for her phone. Panic rises to the surface, and she struggles to breathe as she scrolls through her recent calls, going past Merlin and Gaius and half a dozen restaurants, before dialling Arthur’s number.

She doesn’t expect him to answer, doesn’t even expect his phone to be switched on, and so she knows she shouldn’t be upset when the call goes straight to voicemail.

But she is.

And when Gwen’s phone does the same, she throws her own across the room, drawing satisfaction from the thump that sounds as it bounces off the cabinet and lands on the plush carpet in the middle of the room.

 

* * *

 

Wanting nothing more than to guarantee that Uther doesn’t have a place to call home if he dares to return to London, she goes into a packing frenzy, cursing and crying as she dumps all of his possessions into boxes without stopping to consider whether they carry any sentimental value. The antique swords he has hanging over the fireplace come off the wall, with the paintings he’d had made of his childhood home, and she smashes the odd, ceramic troll figurines he keeps on the mantelpiece. Satisfaction rushes through her as they shatter one by one, and she leaves the pieces on the ground, not wanting to clear up her therapeutic mess just yet.  

 

* * *

 

Exhausted and having nothing left to break, she makes more coffee, pouring one, two, three shots of espresso into the biggest mug she can find as Aithusa sits beside her on the kitchen counter.

The cat follows her around wherever she goes and is at her feet when she carries the coffee into Uther’s study to finish what she’d started the night before.

She’s halfway through boxing a shelf of old economics textbooks when her phone rings. Her heart jumps when she thinks it might finally be Arthur or Gwen calling her back, but she picks it up to find the selfie she and Merlin had taken the afternoon they’d gotten Aithusa flashing across the screen.

Her breathing slows some at the sight, and she smiles as she answers,  “Miss me already?”

“ _You know that I do_. _But that isn’t why I’m calling.”_

He pauses, sounding more serious than he usually is on the phone.

“Is something wrong?”

“ _Are you still home_?”

“I am. I’ve been packing.”

“ _Packing_?”

“Uther’s stuff.”

Merlin’s breath audibly hitches, and Morgana frowns. “What is it?”

“ _I’ve been in the waiting room at the doctor’s with Mum for the past hour, and they have the BBC on. I, uh. I think you should turn on the news, Morgana.”_

“What happened? What are they showing?”

“ _Uther.”_

Morgana doesn’t answer and switches on the set Uther keeps in the room. She sits on his desk and watches as her father’s face flickers off the screen.

“What was he _doing_?” 

_“He was only on for a minute or two, but he’s been talking about how he had nothing to do with the embezzlement scheme and is planning to fly back to London within the week.”_

“He can’t.”

“ _He sounded pretty determined. They said they were going to show more extensive footage of their interview with him later on tonight.”_

“He can’t, Merlin,” she objects as her pulse begins to pound in her ears. “He can’t just waltz back into our lives after he’s destroyed everything. I won’t let him.”

“ _How can you stop him?”_

“I’ll find a way.” She doesn’t know what to do, but she knows she has to do something. “Thank you for telling me.”

“ _I’m sorry you have to deal with this, but Morgana?_ ”

“Yeah?”

“ _I’m flying back tonight. You aren’t going to face this alone_.”

 

* * *

 

Hanging up, Morgana tightens her grip on the coffee cup and struggles to keep her breathing steady. She's happy that Merlin is coming home, terrified of what she'll do if left alone to face Uther.

For all of his actions, for all of his shameless cries of innocence, she can’t believe that he has the nerve to change his mind and declare that he’s coming back. She never wants to see him again, never wants to hear his voice or allow him to be anywhere near the people she loves.

She refuses to allow Uther to hang over Arthur and Gwen, and she wonders yet again if they’re aware of all that’s happening in the wake of their absence.

She never wants him to meet Merlin or burden Gaius or target any other human being as prey.

She drains the rest of her cup and throws it against a newly emptied bookcase, giving up on keeping her calm. The cup shatters at the contact, and her stomach sinks with regret as the pieces fall to the ground. She’s teetering on the edge, and guilt mixes with anger and shame, triggering more tears.  

Aithusa meows and flattens her ears as the cup hits the bookcase, and Morgana takes a shaky breath as the guilt multiplies. “I’m so sorry, Aithusa.”

She reaches out to him, but Aithusa leaps off the desk and runs out of the room, leaving her alone to deal with the predicament.

Breathing deeply, she wills the tears to stop falling so she can find a solution. She spots the scoop Uther keeps beside the fireplace to gather stray ashes, and she crouches by the bookcase to gather the white, ceramic pieces. Moving across the room to dump them into the dustbin, her eyes meet the safe that had lain hidden behind Arthur and Uther’s portrait, and a possible path clears before her.

Uther had never discovered that she’d cracked the safe, and the files proving her father’s suicide sit within it. She’d vowed to keep the information to herself, to respect Gorlois’s memory and to protect Arthur, but making such documents public would disgrace Uther and prove without a doubt that he wasn’t the innocent man he claimed to be. Such a move would support her theory that Uther had had Tom killed, and there would be no way he'd be allowed to stay in London as a free man.

Trembling, she approaches the safe and lets out a sigh of relief when the code is still the same. She draws out the document case at the side of the box, and trying to regulate her breathing, carries it out of the room.

 

* * *

 

She switches her phone to silent, not wanting to risk being side-tracked from doing what she now knows she needs to do, and settles onto the floor in front of the coffee table.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she extracts packets of papers until she comes to a stack of journals at the bottom of the box. Gorlois’s papers were near the top of the box the last time she’d ventured into the safe, and the journals are new to her. Frowning, she pulls them out and places them on the table. Uther had never struck her as one to write down his thoughts or sentimentalize the present, and she draws away from them as another possibility crosses her mind. The journals can wait until the correct documents are in her hands.

Her and Arthur's birth certificates, fake passports with Uther's photographs.

Gorlois's death certificate.

Bank records.

Uther’s will.

She rifles through the papers, stacking them in order of relevance and potential use, ignoring the feelings of guilt that bubble to the surface with every new document she finds.

 

* * *

 

It isn’t until she locates all of the files related to Gorlois that Morgana turns to the journals. All six of them are identically bound in supple red leather but unadorned. Opening the journal at the top of the pile, she finds the scrawl she expects and the spidery, elegant ‘Y’ that she knows so well.

Her mother had bequeathed her with all of her personal belongings upon her death, but the guilt that has plagued her through the evening intensifies with every page that she reads. Yet the further she goes on, the more she understands that she isn’t going to be able to stop, and that her mother wasn’t the woman she believed her to be.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, many, many thanks to my best friend! She's much more familiar with Ygraine's character from other Arthurian adaptations and is the evil!Morgana to my nice!Morgana, so I asked her to write the journal entries at the beginning of the chapter. <3
> 
> Second, thank you to everyone for the comments and feedback on the previous chapter! They were, as always, very much appreciated. :)

_15 December, 1989_

 

_Last night, we took the black Aston Martin out of the garage for the gala. Gorlois drove, of course. Slowly. So slowly. The top was down and I was chilled to the bone. In that moment I thought I could never have been colder in my life. But then we arrived and I would have easily traded the warmth for the cold. The gala was so boring. So boring. The same people, the same portraits, the same bloody faces; it looked like Piccadilly at 6pm._

_Uther was there. It was the first time Gorlois’s business partner attended such an event. They say he’s all about his drinks and his women. He spoke to me. He’s the worst sort of rogue. He did not appear bored at all at having being forced to attend. Unlike me. ‘Smile, love, it might be worse’. When I asked how could this be any worse he replied, ‘Well, you might have decided not to come and then, what would have I done?’ His smile is his worst feature, his eyes smile along, and he looks like a king who fears nothing and no one. I tried flirting back, and it turns out I still can. ‘Nothing, of course! I wonder how have you walked and breathed before meeting me, Uther’. Not bad for an old married woman! ‘I wonder the very same, Ygraine’. Right there, in the middle of the NPG, I felt like a witch, circling her cauldron and whispering spells aimed to an unknowing prey! He smiled his awful smile again. Awful, awful, awful! Awful and scorching like the sun. Unknowing but not unwilling, apparently. Until he fled towards the next investor, the next drink, or the next woman. The entire gala was awful. That is no news._

_About Uther: I hated him. Scandalously enough, I look forward to hating him again._

 

\---

 

_20 May, 1990_

 

_Uther bought me the showiest piece of jewellery I have ever seen. I wore it to lunch with him and Gorlois yesterday, to test him. Or, maybe, just to remind him what followed his gauche gift. ‘I don’t care if you don’t want me, I’m yours right now’ sings Nina Simone, and it’s like she sings my words. It drives me mad that he barely has to glance in my direction for me to run to him. I always run. After a while, he moved his hand under the table, under my skirt, and caressed my thigh. I shivered and tried to cover a conspiratorial smile. I failed miserably! We laughed like naughty children! Poor Gorlois looked so flabbergasted! He tried laughing along, even asked ‘what?’ with the expression on his face of someone who is trying very hard not to look lost. It was comical, really. There we were, the three of us, while my lover touched me indecently my husband was oblivious to everything but his damn plate! Poor, poor man. One never wishes to be mean but, really, how clueless can he be be for not noticing?_

 

\---

 

_28 January, 1991_

 

_I will leave her behind. I will leave Morgana behind. All of my possessions are packed. Gorlois will be back on Sunday, but I will already be gone by then. She cries all day long. She rarely sleeps, but I know Gorlois will take better care of her. God knows, I will welcome some sleep myself. Sometimes, when I look at my baby, I wish we could have been a normal family. Nothing has been normal since last year’s gala. Nothing since meeting Uther. We found each other and now our bond is stronger than blood, more visceral than giving birth to his own daughter. Uther does not know Morgana is really his. And I did not have the courage to tell Gorlois. He has never been happier than the time he first held Morgana: he’s joyful when he feeds her- although, he had the nerve to look appalled when I told him I would not breastfeed, after I just went through the greatest, most painful experience of my life, knowing in my heart that I will soon leave everything I have ever known- he’s even joyful when he changes her nappies. He sings to her when she sleeps, I can hear him from our room. He sings to her every night while all I want is silence. Uther will give me peace and silence. We’re leaving the city entirely but the destination is a surprise. Morgana just woke up and started crying. Again._

_—_

_She is asleep now. Realising that I will not held her in my arms for a very long time brought tears to my eyes. I packed her things on an impulse. Uther would want her if I told him she’s his. And we could hire nannies – an army of nannies – so that we will never hear her cry. I can see Gorlois doesn’t understand me. He thinks I should love everything about my daughter or nothing at all. We are not the same. And the fact that I am not ready to renounce to my happiness does not mean that I do not love my daughter. It doesn’t mean that I will not cry for her. It means I know I would be a much better person with Uther by my side. Our life together would not suit a child. No, I will need to unpack all of Morgana’s things before the nanny and Uther’s car arrive. I will leave her with Gorlois. With the scandal to come, he will take comfort in having Morgana with him. I will survive, and with Uther I will be whole again. It’s only fair. I cannot live without Uther just as much as Gorlois could never live without the baby. I cannot be the wife he needs, I cannot be his wife at all. But I can leave him my baby._

* * *

 

 

She’s halfway through the second journal when the doorbell rings. The sun is long gone and shadows cover every other surface, making the room much darker than she’d realized. Her phone sits on the sofa behind her, and three missed call alerts and a series of text messages from Merlin greet her when she turns it on.

 

_I’m on the plane. I should be there around 9._

 

_We’ve landed! I promised Gaius I’d quickly stop by the shop, but I’ll be there soon._

 

_Are you okay?_

 

_I’m on my way up!_

 

She curses under her breath and jumps up, stretching after the hours she’s spent on the floor. Her neck cracks, and she wobbles as blood rushes back to her legs.

The read journals lie at her feet, and she represses the urge to kick one of them. She’s too angry, too upset to cry or scream or throw. Horror numbs her every nerve even as logic tells her to ignore her instincts, and she knows as sure as she does that her mother’s blood runs through her veins that she needs to turn Merlin away as soon as she can.

Before she falls deeper in love. Before she hurts him and spends the rest of her life regretting what she’s done.

She pauses in front of the entryway mirror and runs her fingers through her hair, wishing she’d at least taken the time to dress properly. She places her hand on the door handle, counts to ten, breathes, and steels herself for what needs to come next.

“Hi.”

She tries tries to keep her expression cold, but Merlin is standing in front of her, hair adorably mussed and a giant bouquet of white lilies in his arms. The corners of her mouth curve upwards at the sight of him, and the dopey smile on his face causes her resolve to melt away.

“Hi,” she whispers, stepping aside to let him in. “How was your flight?”

“Uneventful.” He reaches out for her, and she goes to him, revelling in the feel of his arms wrapping around her, even as her mind screams at her to keep whatever distance she can. “I’m just glad to be back. I missed you so much.”

She presses into the crook of his neck as he speaks, and the words cause tears to spring to her eyes. She doesn’t want to do what she’s decided she has to, doesn’t want to push him away when she’s missed him, too.

She sniffs, and Merlin stills. “Morgana?”

She takes a raspy breath and leans back, resisting the pull towards him. “We can’t do this.”

The dopey smile from moments earlier is gone, and frightened disbelief takes its place. “What do you mean?”

Morgana looks away, fiddling with the sleeves of her jumper. “I don’t deserve this, Merlin. I don’t deserve you.”

He cocks his head to the side. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m a mess. I’m toxic and everyone in my family is toxic. You should be with someone who’ll make you happy, someone who –”

“I don’t –” he starts and pauses. “You're not making sense.  _You_ make me happy, Morgana.”  

She shakes her head, tears stinging behind her eyelids but stubbornly refusing to fall. “No.”

“Yes, Morgana. You’re the only person I want to be with. Look at me. _Please_.”

She does, and the sincerity in his eyes tugs at something deep within her. “You say that now…”

“No. Well, yes, I am saying this now, but I know I’ll be saying the same thing tomorrow and next week, next month, next year. You’ve become my best friend over the past few months, and I _love_ you, Morgana. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. I didn’t even _know_ I could love anyone this much, and I’m not saying this to appease you. Being away from you this week… It was enough to understand that I never want to voluntarily be away from you again.” He pauses and her pulse is pounding so loudly in her ears that the look on his face is the only thing that reassures her that she’s hearing him correctly. “I’m in this, Morgana. I’m in this for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I don’t know what,” she begins but trails off, swallowing. The tears she’s held back escape, and her mouth quivers, not knowing whether to laugh or cry or scream.

He watches her patiently, quietly, and doesn’t try to jump to conclusions or complete her sentence. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know anything except that the mix of emotions is exhausting. She takes a deep breath and as he tightens his grip on her waist, she decides that what she wants is to pull him down to her and kiss him until neither of them can breathe.

So she does.

And it’s nothing like before. The sadness is still there, but the sweetness is replaced by quiet desperation. She doesn’t want him to go, doesn’t want to push him away, so she pulls him closer, knotting her hands through his hair and curving her body to align with his. He responds to her every move, splaying his free hand against the small of her back and holding her to him.

They only pull away to catch their breath, and Merlin rests his forehead against hers and reaches up to brush away the last of the tears that linger on her cheek. She turns to brush her lips against his hand and quietly says, “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Morgana.”

“I do. You came all this way, and I love you, too. So, so much, and I still tried to push you away.”

Merlin brushes his thumb against her cheek and leans in, stopping millimeters from her lips. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”

“So am I.”

He kisses her again, forgiveness apparent in the way he lingers, and she wonders how she ever thought she could push him away.

 

* * *

 

“Morgana?”

They’re spread out on the sofa – Morgana laying down with her legs in Merlin’s lap, and she turns to find him staring at the pile of unread, red journals beside the vase of lilies on the coffee table.

“Yeah?”

“What happened since we last spoke this afternoon?”

She frowns but keeps his gaze. “I found my mother’s journals.”

“Did you read them?”

“I started to. I skimmed mostly, but the parts I read were enough to understand. I meant it, Merlin. I don’t want you to go, but you’d be better off staying far away from me.”

“Morgana.”

She summarizes the things she’s read and adds, “What my mum did to Gorlois… She wasn’t any better than Uther. You’re going to end up getting hurt.”

“You aren’t your mother, Morgana, and you certainly aren’t Uther. You’re the most compassionate person I’ve ever met.”

“No, but I’m scared, Merlin, because, deep down, I can understand them. They loved each other, horribly as they behaved, and I get it – loving someone so much I’d do absolutely anything for them.”

“Even send them away?”

“If it meant protecting them? Yes.” They both know they’re talking about each other, and she reaches for his hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing to reassure him that she isn’t having second thoughts. “Even if it was the last thing I wanted to do.”

Merlin shakes his head. “I told you I’m in this, Morgana. I’m staying as long as you truly want me to be here. Whatever you have to face, we’ll face together. No matter how ugly, no matter how scary you may think it is.”

“What if I turn Uther over to the authorities?”

“Then I’ll stand by you.”

“Even if I betray my own father?”

“Is that what you’re planning to do?”

Morgana fiddles with the sleeve of her jumper, careful not to expose the quickly darkening bruise from her fall. “I think so. It’s why I went into his vault.”

“Did you find anything?”

“There are some documents. I don’t know how Uther was dumb enough to leave them behind, but they should at least serve as evidence that he wanted Tom dead.”

“Well I doubt he thought anyone knew the code to the safe. Are the documents enough to put him behind bars?”

Morgana shrugs. “I don’t think so. Enough to make him stop playing the victim to the media, though.”

“That’s still something.”

“It is, and I wanted to release the truth about my dad, about how he pushed Gorlois to suicide, but…”

“Now you think your mum might be involved somehow?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” She pulls on a stray thread and wraps it around her finger. “I don’t want to think that she is, but maybe. I couldn’t do that to Arthur.”

“He doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t know any of it, and I’ve called him. So many times, Merlin, but his phone is always off, and Gwen’s phone is off, and I don’t know if something’s happened to them or if they’re just hiding, and I need to act soon – very, very soon.”

“How long has it been?”

“Since I’ve heard from them? Well over a month, at this point?”

“Then you do what you think is best for everyone.”

“What if there’s another way? Gwen always says that you always have a choice. I don’t want to turn out like my parents, Merlin. This would destroy Arthur.”

“Then we’ll find another way.”

“I don't think there is one. I could just release the documents about Uther and Tom to the media, without saying anything about my dad. He might not come back if he thinks all of London is out for him.” She pauses, weighing her options. “But then that still exposes Gwen to the media, and the talk about Tom is only just dying down. No matter what I do, someone is going to get hurt.”

Merlin nods thoughtfully. “Where do you think Arthur and Gwen are?”

Morgana shakes her head. “We have a cottage near the sea, but I don’t know if they’d be there, or if they’re even in the country.”

“Is it worth checking out?”

“Are you suggesting I drive out there?”

“I’m suggesting that if you don’t hear from them by morning, _we_ drive out there. If they’re there, then you can decide what to do together. If not, then you get a day or two outside of the city, and maybe a change of environment will help you make up your mind.”

She considers it, pictures the stone house and her tiny bedroom that overlooks the cliffs and the sea and smiles.

 

* * *

 

They spend the rest of the evening on the sofa, trying to clear their heads. They trade stories and kisses, and Morgana doesn’t even notice it’s well after midnight until Merlin dozes off mid-anecdote and tightens his hold on her.

Having spent one too many night on the sofa, she has no intention of staying put and absolutely no intention of sleeping without Merlin. Hoping to wake him so that they can move, she trails her hand up and down his chest and lightly kisses him before nudging his nose with her own. When he doesn’t wake, she slips her hand under his jumper and t-shirt and tickles the sensitive skin above the waistband of his jeans.

His eyes flutter open at that, and his mouth quirks into a bemused smile as he mutters, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to wake you up?”

Merlin groans and, pulling her hand out to intertwine their fingers together, turns onto his side to snuggle into her.

Morgana smiles and brushes an unruly lock of hair away from his forehead. “Come to bed?”

He hums and mutters, “‘m comfortable here.”

“You won’t be in a couple of hours.”

“I will be if you’re here with me.”

Morgana’s eyebrows rise in tandem, and she smirks. “Sleep makes you sappy, Merlin.”

“ _You_ make me sappy.”

Morgana laughs and sits up. “Well you aren’t going to be up to being sappy if you wake up with a crick in your neck. Come on.”

She crawls over him and stands, tugging on his hand.

“I don’t want to.”

“I won’t make you wear the dragon pyjamas this time.”

“But I _liked_ the dragon pyjamas.”

“Then you can wear the dragon pyjamas, or I’ll wear the dragon pyjamas. Anything. Just _please_ come to bed, Merlin.”

Merlin sits up, grinning. “ _You’ll_ wear the dragon pyjamas?”

“ _No_."

"But you said-"

"They’re my brother’s, Merlin!”

Merlin pouts, looking much too put out by the prospect.

 

* * *

 

Merlin is only too happy to climb into her big, comfy bed once she gets him off the sofa, and he falls back asleep, happily wearing the ridiculous dragon pyjamas, as soon as his head hits the pillow, and of course – _of course_ – she doesn’t. She tries to match his breathing for a time, counting and trying to clear her mind, but she ends up tossing from side to side.

As exhausted as she is, and as comforting as it is to have Merlin beside her, her mind refuses to shut off. The visions from her nightmares play out before her, twirling through her thoughts and mixing together with the things she’d read in her mother’s journal.

She sees herself as a villain and as an abandoned baby, and terror works its way into her bloodstream, pushing sleep farther and farther away. Breathing at all becomes difficult, let alone at a specific rhythm, and it quickly becomes apparent that staying put is going to do more harm than good.

Weighing her options, she slips out of bed and quietly pulls her suitcase out of the closet to begin to pack.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

She piles jumper after jumper into her bag and sneaks out of the room to get the journals and documents. She doesn’t want to take them with her, but she knows she needs to keep them close. What Uther will or won’t do in the next few days is uncertain, and the thought of the documents disappearing before she can decide what to do with them is enough for her to tuck them in beneath a jumper and a lacy nightgown.

Her fingers linger over the silky material of the nightgown, and she knows how impractical it is to bring to the seaside in the early spring, but it doesn’t matter. She wants to have a nice few days with Merlin, no matter what lies ahead.

Smiling at all the things she wants to do, she adds a few more of her research books to the bag and zips it shut. Whether Arthur and Gwen are there or not, they’ll stay at the cottage, enjoy the quiet, and then come back, ready to face Uther.

Not ready to go to sleep, she grabs her laptop off the desk and climbs over the settee to sit on the windowsill behind it. It isn’t really made for sitting, but it’s a spot she’s always loved. She pulls the curtains back and leans her head against the glass.

Her bedroom looks out over the park and the matte darkness of the trees clashes with the glistening, black surface of the Serpentine. The sight calms her as it always does, and she opens her laptop to keep working.  

She makes her way through two paragraphs, but then the anecdotes she’d read in her mother’s journal start playing out before her. She sees Ygraine sneaking off beneath Gorlois’s unsuspecting noise and racing away in Uther’s car. She doesn’t want to understand how she’d betrayed him with so little concern when Gorlois had been the kindest, most loving man. She _doesn’t_ understand how she’d left her behind without any real doubts.

“Morgana?”

She looks up as Merlin’s voice gravelly, sleep-encrusted voice breaks through her thoughts, and she finds him sitting up and staring at her.

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?”

She shrugs and drops her laptop onto the settee beside her before climbing over it. “I was trying to get some more work done.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Did you have another nightmare?” He reaches out for her as he speaks, and she crawls back onto the bed.

“No. I just can’t turn my mind off. I keep thinking about what to do, and what I read.”

Merlin frowns, and she can see him struggling against sleep as he does. “Did you read any more of the journals?”

“No. I’m afraid they’re going to get worse, and the bits I have read are bad enough.”

Merlin gives her a sad, bleary smile, and she lays down on her side to face him.  
“Would it help to talk about something else?”

“Like what?”

“Like what you want to do at the cottage? For fun?”

“We can go swimming in the ocean.”

Merlin raises a sleepy eyebrow. “In the middle of March?”

“Why not?” she smirks.

“You’re crazy.”

“But you love me anyway.” She smiles as she speaks, and he reaches out to pull her closer.

“All the more for it.”

“I’m glad,” she whispers and nuzzles his nose with her own before capturing his lips in a kiss.

Their movements are more languid, and they linger with every touch. Every brush of their lips sets fire to her skin, and Morgana feels warmth pooling within her. She needs to be as close to him as possible, to feel the touch of his skin against hers, and the next thing she knows, she’s pulling his flimsy t-shirt off of him, and he’s helping her out of her top.

She kisses him as he does so and impatiently guides his hands underneath. His every touch is reverent and he trails his hands with his mouth, lips tracing over every inch of her skin. Desire runs through her, and when his hands run down her stomach and hook over the waistband of her pyjama bottoms, she knows she isn’t going to be content until there’s nothing left between them.  

 

* * *

 

She finally drifts off to sleep afterwards, every inch of her body spent and relaxed, and she thinks she wouldn’t mind spending every night like this for the rest of her life, tangled together with Merlin, her head on his chest, and his arms wrapped around her naked waist.

The nightmares leave her be and dreams give her a chance to rest before they work their way out of her happiness and fill her head with visions of possible days ahead. Nights with Merlin, wrapped up in each other; a wedding in the woods, vowing to love each other for the rest of their days, surrounded by ghosts and loved ones. Blissed out, she sleeps through all of it and only wakes when a tiny little girl with her hair and startling blue eyes wobbles away from her and into Merlin’s waiting arms.

She breathes heavily, weighing the meaning of all she’s seen. The memory, the promises of years to come tug at her heart, and she presses into Merlin’s side. He stirs but doesn’t wake, and she wills herself to drift back off to sleep in search of her dreams.

 

* * *

 

“You’re going the wrong way!!”

“No, I’m not.”

“Morgana! The map said to turn back there.”

“The map’s wrong.”

“How can the map be wrong?”

“Because it doesn’t know the best way to go. It wants us to follow the most popular road and go the boring way.”

“And the fastest way!”

Morgana turns towards him and grins. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you.”

“Then we’re going this way. I always go this way,” she affirms and speeds along the cliff-side road.

 

* * *

 

They stop midway to the cottage, parking alongside the road to eat the sandwiches and biscuits they’d picked up from the coffee shop before leaving and pass a thermos of coffee between them.

“You were right,” Merlin concedes, sitting cross-legged on the hood of Morgana’s car. The sea stretches out beneath them, before them at the foot of the cliffs, and the wind threatens to blow them away. The area is filled with other cars and picnickers in the summer, but the cold keeps them away, leaving them to enjoy their lunch in peace.

“Of course I was.” Morgana smirks, taking a sip of her coffee and burrowing her chin into the thick cashmere scarf she’d tied around her neck before stepping out of the car.

Merlin nods, and Morgana reaches out and grabs his hand, intertwining their frozen, gloveless fingers.

 

* * *

 

They reach the cottage in the early afternoon and find it boarded up. There are no signs of either Arthur or Gwen anywhere outside, and Morgana feels her hopes wash away until she jumps out of the car to enter the code to the garage and finds Arthur’s little blue Porsche on the other side.

Beaming, she leaves the car running and rushes into the house.

“Arthur? Gwen?!”

She makes her way through the living room and library, and they’re nowhere to be found until Gwen sticks her head out of the kitchen. “Morgana!”

Morgana launches herself at her best friend, crushing her in a hug. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Morgana!” Arthur steps out of the kitchen and adds, “What happened? Is everything okay?”

He holds his arms out to her, but the initial relief at finding them alive and safe fades, and she punches Arthur in the arm. “Is everything _okay_? I’ve been calling both of you for _weeks_! I haven’t heard anything from either of you, and I didn’t know if you were alive or dead! Meanwhile, everything’s falling apart and Uther is threatening to come back, and I don’t know what to do. I’ve been _calling_ you.”

Arthur rubs his arm as she speaks, and looks increasingly chastised. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re both sorry,” Gwen adds. “It wasn’t fair to leave you alone.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly been alone.”

Gwen cocks her head to the side with a frown, newly bobbed curls swaying, and asks, “Gaius?”

One side of Morgana’s mouth curls upwards, and she fingers the hem of her jumper. “Gaius has been supportive, yes, but... Merlin…”

“No!” Gwen’s face lights up, and Morgana feels herself begin to blush.

“Who’s _Merlin_?” Arthur asks

“Morgana?” Merlin calls, voice muffled and coming from down the corridor.  

“In here!” Morgana responds. She turns towards Arthur and Gwen and gestures towards the door. “I’ll just... ” she trails off to step into the corridor so that Merlin can see where they are. She beams at him as he makes his way towards her and drags him into the room by the hand.

“ _This_ is –.”

“Merlin!” Gwen exclaims before Morgana can finish the introduction. Her best friend turns to beam at her. “I knew it!”

“You did not.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Arthur says, extending his hand to Merlin. “I’m still confused,” he adds to Morgana and Gwen.  

“He’s my boyfriend, you dork.”

“He’s Gaius’s nephew. He works at the coffee shop in your building,” Gwen offers, just as Merlin turns towards Morgana and whispers in her ear, “What’s going on?”

“Arthur’s being slow.”

Arthur’s frown turns into a guffaw as she speaks, and he looks delighted. “You’re in love with a barista?!”  
“Arthur!” Gwen chides.

Morgana raises a challenging brow at her brother and squeezes Merlin’s hand. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way! Of course I didn’t mean it _that_ way. It’s just that with your coffee habits, we knew it was only a matter of time.”

Morgana narrows her eyes at him. “Who’s _we_?”

“Well, Leon and I.”

“You didn’t have a bet, did you?”

“No! Well, not technically.”

Gwen rolls her eyes at Arthur, but her smile grows as she looks at Morgana and Merlin. “You’re not denying it? You’re in love?”  
Morgana knows Merlin is blushing beside her, and she turns to apologize to him but finds him beaming at her best friend. She raises her eyebrows, looking between them and then laughs. “Okay, now that we’ve established that, can we get back to more serious matters?”

“Like?” Arthur asks.

Morgana rolls her eyes. “Like what we’re going to do about Uther, or what it is you’re both doing with wedding rings on your fingers?!”

Gwen flushes, skin darkening as she looks down and hair falls into her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Arthur places his hand on Gwen’s shoulder, and says, “We haven’t told anyone.”

Morgana nods. She knows how private they’ve both been about their relationship in the shadows of Uther’s objections, and she can’t say she blames them, no matter how badly she would have liked to have been there. Her expression softens, and she asks, “When did it happen?”

The smile returns to Gwen’s face, and she says, “About two weeks ago.”

“After everything that happened, we didn’t want to wait anymore.”

Morgana smiles and Merlin says, “Congratulations.”

“I’m happy for you. Truly,” Morgana adds and steps forward to hug her best friend again and beam at her brother.

“Thank you,” Gwen says softly.

“I wish you could have been there, Morgana,” Arthur.

Pulling away from Gwen, Morgana launches herself at Arthur, giving him the hug she’d withheld upon arrival. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too. We both have, really. I’m sorry we didn’t call you.”

“It’s okay,” Morgana says and squeezes him once more before stepping back as tears begin to form. “I’m just glad you’re both okay.”

“We’ll make up for it when things settle down,” Gwen suggests. “You can throw us one of your parties. Small but elaborate, with just the people we like.”

“That sounds nice,” Morgana agrees, wiping away a stray tear.  

 

* * *

 

“So what is this about Uther coming back?” Gwen asks, not much later.

They’re all sitting together in the living room, spread out amongst the sofas and armchairs.

Merlin looks around the room and makes to get up, “Should I leave?”

Arthur looks indecisive, but Morgana places her hand on his knee. “Please stay?”

“Maybe it would be for the best?” Arthur says.

Morgana fixes him with a glare. “I trust Merlin.” Arthur opens his mouth, and she adds, “With my life. With all of our lives. He’s staying.”

“I don’t mind –” Merlin begins to say, but Morgana turns her glare towards him and he sits back down. “Okay.”  

Gwen looks between the three of them and purses her lips, visibly holding back a laugh. “Now that that’s settled…”

“Merlin saw Uther on television. He’s still trying to blame everything on Tom, and he wants to come back to prove his innocence. He said he’ll do everything in his power to get us and the bank back.”

Gwen blanches at the news, and Arthur’s frown deepens.

Putting his head into his hands, he groans, “We need to stop him.”

“What do we do?” Gwen asks.

Morgana takes a deep breathe and announces her plan. “We release him to the media. I found some documents that will put him in a bad light. They won’t be enough to actually prove that he’s responsible, but they’ll prove that Tom didn’t do anything, and I doubt he’ll want to come back if the entire country thinks he’s scum.” She turns towards Gwen and adds, “It’ll bring your father back into the limelight though.”

Gwen nods and swallows thickly before answering, “Whatever needs to be done to bring him to justice.”

Morgana nods once and turns to Arthur. “This is going to destroy Uther. We both know I don’t have any qualms about that, but if you –”

Arthur shakes his head. “No. I don’t care. He stopped being the father I loved the moment he let Tom take his fall.”

“Okay, then,” she agrees and digs her nails into her thigh as she considers telling him the rest of her plans about Gorlois. She wants to tell him, but she doesn’t want to shatter his image of Ygraine along with Uther’s.

“So that’s it, then?” Arthur asks.

She flexes her hand, digging her nails deeper, but then Merlin gently pulls it away from her thigh and slips his hand into hers. She squeezes once in thanks and turns back to her brother. “For now. I’ll send the document now. I still have a connection in the press from Oxford.”

“Morgause? Morgana, not her.”

“Do you have any better ideas, Arthur? She’ll at least give Uther the treatment he deserves.”

Arthur sighs and sinks deeper into his seat. “Fine.”

Morgana nods and stands. “Do we still have the scanner in the library?”

 

* * *

 

Merlin is waiting for her in the corridor when she’s done. Scanning the documents had taken no more than a few minutes, and she’d quickly drafted an email to her old friend.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Or I will be fine. I already feel better knowing that we’ve at least done something now.”

“And now we wait.”

Morgana nods. “Are _you_ okay?”

Merlin frowns. “I’m fine?”  
“It’s just that Arthur can be a bit much. And Gwen’s really excited about us.”

“They’re great, Morgana. Really.”

“I’m glad, then.” She beams, relieved that the three most important people in her life get along. “Where are they now?”

“Arthur said something about cooking?”

Morgana’s eyes widen, and she dashes off towards the kitchen. “He’ll burn the cottage down!”

 

* * *

 

Arthur insists on cooking, insists that he’s learned and wants to prove it to them. So, they spend the evening going to and from the kitchen and the living room, taking turns stirring sauces and checking on Arthur. The hours pass quietly, full of banter and wine and free of all the further discussions they know they need to have.

Taking advantage of the fact that they’re all tired and emotionally drained after dinner, Arthur talks them into marathoning all the romantic comedies he’ll never admit to loving far more than either of them.

The wine flows freely, and Morgana almost forgets what she’s done until her phone quietly buzzes, and a message from Morgause appears on the screen.

_This is brilliant. Thanks. Do you have anything more? Xx_

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a million deadlines looming, so of course I'm updating for the third time in less than 48 hours!
> 
> A few things:  
> 1) I posted a short little outtake that takes place between last chapter and this. You can read that [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3820264).  
> 2) If there are any other outtakes or little scenes you'd like to see that I haven't written, let me know either in the comments or in my tumblr inbox and I might write a little ficlet.  
> 3) Angst is underway, so I think this is a good time to quote Nietzsche:  
> "What if pleasure and pain are so closely connected that he who wants the greatest possible amount of the one must also have the greatest possible amount of the other, that he who wants to experience the 'heavenly high jubilation' must also be ready to be 'sorrowful unto death'?"  
> (Point being angst/fluff ratio.)  
> 4) I updated my playlist for the fic [here](http://8tracks.com/fictionalheart/for-all-the-nights-you-can-t-sleep-i) and made a second one [here](http://8tracks.com/fictionalheart/for-all-the-nights-you-can-t-sleep-ii).  
> 5) I'm going to add two chapters to the fic, before and after chapter two, at some point in the near future for the sake of narrative continuity, so if anything weird happens with updates and chapter counts, that'll be why.

She decides to ignore Morgause. At least at first. Spending time with Arthur and Gwen and Merlin proves to be everything she wanted it to be and more. The three of them strike up an immediate friendship, and surrounded by the three people she loves most, Morgana feels happier and more secure than she has in months.

Two days fly by as they enjoy their time at the cottage. Merlin builds them a campfire on the beach, and they find themselves spending most of their days outside, sitting on layers of woollen blankets. Arthur stops shrieking every time Aithusa wanders into the room, and Morgana finally catches up with Gwen.

Everything is exactly the way she wants it to be, and she doesn’t think that it can possibly get any better.

 

* * *

 

It’s on their third night at the cottage that Arthur begins to question Merlin and Morgana.

“When exactly did you two meet, again?” Arthur asks, narrowing his eyes at Merlin and Morgana as they sit glued to each other’s side in the living room.

“About three months ago?” Morgana answers.

“More like four?” Merlin suggests.

“Yes, but you spent that first month driving me mad and I spent it pretending that you didn’t exist.”

Morgana smirks and Merlin beams back at her, making Arthur and Gwen fade from the room until Arthur clears his throat and begins to shake his head.

“This is exactly what I mean.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re oddly close for having known each other for so little time.” Arthur narrows his eyes as he speaks, “You aren’t pregnant are you?”

Merlin begins to choke, coughing on the wine he’d been in the middle of drinking, and Morgana widens her eyes at her brother.

“What?! No! Jesus, Arthur.”

“I’m sorry! It’s just impressive is all.”

“They’re just in love, Arthur,” Gwen explains, eyebrows raised and clearly amused by her husband’s bafflement.

“Well I can clearly see _that_.”

“It was different for you and Gwen,” Morgana says. “You met when you were kids and it took you years to get together.”

“You’re right.” Arthur concedes and turns towards Merlin who is only just catching his breath. “I’m sorry, mate.”

Morgana rolls her eyes and pats Merlin on the arm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Morgana nods. “You’ll learn to expect anything with Arthur around.”

“Don’t worry,” Gwen says, handing Merlin a glass of water. “It took me a while to get used to these two, and I’m not even an only child.”

Gwen’s tone dips as she speaks, and Morgana frowns. “Speaking of which, have you heard from Elyan lately?”

Gwen shakes her head. “He called after Dad died, but that was it. I don’t even know where he is.” She sounds dejected as she shares the news and gasps. “Oh, Morgana! I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think of it that way. I can’t believe we did the same thing to you.”

“It’s in the past now, Gwen. Don’t worry.”

“Still!” Gwen says and steps over to hug her best friend.

Morgana squeezes her tightly and, pulling back, adds, “I’m just glad we’re all here together.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you think we should get married?” Morgana whispers.

It’s late at night, and they’re laid out in bed, spent and exhausted, sheets tangled at their feet. Merlin is partly draped over her, head resting on her stomach, and she has her fingers knotted in his hair.

Merlin shifts and moves to lie down besides her, leaning on his elbow to be able to face her. “Is this because of what Arthur said?”

“Maybe?” She breathes heavily, thinking of the dreams she’s been having since his return from Dublin. “Not really?” She reaches up to stroke his cheek and shivers as the sides of her fingers catch on his day-old stubble. “I’ve been having dreams for the last few nights.”

Merlin frowns and catches the hand at his cheek to knot their fingers together. “But you’ve been sleeping through the night.”

“They’ve been nice dreams,” she amends. She smiles, looking away from his eyes, suddenly shy. She wants to share what she’s seen with him, but she’s still afraid she’s fallen deeper than Merlin. “Very nice dreams.” She focuses on his mouth as she begins, but forces herself to turn back to his gaze and watch his reaction as she continues, “I see us together in different ways. Like this, and years down the line. We get married and,” she pauses and her breath catches as Merlin’s eyes light up at what she tells him. “We have a daughter. She’s tiny, but she has these chubby cheeks and your eyes, and I know it’s early – so, so early – but I want all of it. I want everything with you, Merlin, and I don’t want to scare you –”

Merlin cuts her off, capturing her lips with his, and kisses her as deeply as he can.

She’s breathless when he pulls away, but she beams up at him. “You aren’t scared?”

“How can I be scared when you’ve described everything that I want?”

“Really?”

“Really. I’d marry you tomorrow, Morgana.”

"You don't think it's crazy?"

"No, I don't. Actually," he begins and slips out of bed, pulling his discarded boxers back on. He goes to his duffle bag and digs through his own pile of books. "Mum gave me this when I was home. I wouldn't shut up about you and she said she wouldn't be surprised if I needed this sooner than I realized."

Morgana's breath hitches as Merlin pulls a small but elegant ring out of a pouch, everything suddenly so much more real. "Your mum's?"

Merlin nods. "It's been in the family for generations. I know it isn't as elaborate as what someone else might be able to give you, but –"

"Merlin, it's beautiful."

Merlin breathes out a sigh of relief. “Does this mean we’re engaged?”

A smile spreads across her face, and Morgana feels tears pooling in her eyes. “It will once you put the ring on my finger.”

Merlin beams and, trembling, places a kiss against her lips and takes her left hand into his. He runs his thumb over her ring finger and brings it to his lips. “Will you marry me, Morgana?”

“ _Merlin_.”

He quirks his brow and his head to the side and his smile spreads further across his face. “ _Morgana_.”

“Of course I’ll marry you.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him soundly before allowing him to pull away to slip the ring onto her finger.  

 

* * *

 

They spend the rest of the night wrapped up in each other and, exhausted, they sleep until noon. They can barely keep their hands off of each other as they dress, and Morgana feels as if her heart is about to burst as she helps Merlin button up his cardigan and her ring catches against the woollen material.

She doubts they’ll make it through breakfast before giving themselves away, and she’s ready to tell Arthur and Gwen as soon as they step into the kitchen and find them seated at the island counter. It’s only when she registers their ashen faces and the tears in Gwen’s eyes that her own smile fades away.

“What’s happened?”

Gwen looks up and opens her mouth to speak, but Arthur gets there first. “What did you do, Morgana?”

Her stomach drops at the venom in his voice, and Merlin tightens his grip on her hand. “What do you mean? I haven’t done anything.”

Arthur scoffs and turns his laptop around so she can see the article on the screen.

 

**_Pendragon Heir Tears Down Father-in-Law for Profit_ **

 

He scrolls from one page to another, displaying similar headlines.

Morgana’s eyes widen at the selection, and her breathing quickens. “I would never do something like that, Arthur.”

“It’s all over the media. Every paper. Every outlet. It’s even trending on Twitter, for God’s sake, Morgana!”

“I can’t believe you think I would be behind such a thing!”

“Well who else would?”

“Lots of people! I know this used to be hard for you to see, but Uther has enemies, Arthur. Hell, _Uther_ would do this before I would.”

“You’re the one who’s friends with Morgause. You sent her those papers the other day.”

“Yes, to bring _Uther_ to justice, not to slander my little brother!”

“Well how are we to know that? You didn’t even show us the documents before you sent them off!”

“You agreed, Arthur. Gwen agreed. I never would do anything to hurt either of you. You should know that.”

“I thought I did.”

“Arthur!” Gwen steps in. “You can’t honestly believe she did this on purpose.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. I trusted you, Morgana. I thought you were doing what was best for the family, but you were obviously only looking out for yourself.”

“That isn’t fair, Arthur,” Merlin intervenes, voice biting with anger. “She’s had your best interest at heart with every single thing she’s done. The entire reason we’re here is because she didn’t want to do anything without consulting with you first.”

“You stay out of this,” Arthur barks. “You know nothing about any of this.”

“Merlin knows as much as any of us do, Arthur.”

“Because you obviously don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, Morgana. You got us into this, and now I need to get us out of it.

“Don’t speak to her that way!”

Arthur steps forward, angrier than Morgana’s ever seen him, and she steps in front of Merlin.

“That’s enough, Arthur! I swear to you I didn’t say _anything_ about you to Morgause, but I’ll take care of this.”

“You’d better.”

“I will, and you’d better apologize to me when this is over.”

Arthur scoffs and walks over to the window, turning his back to them. Gwen gives Morgana an apologetic look, but Morgana shakes her head and walks out of the room.

 

* * *

 

She keeps her composure until she’s well out of Arthur and Gwen’s earshot, and she races out of the house instead of up to her room. Footsteps echo behind her, and she knows Merlin is following her, so she stops, waiting where the path curves before turning into steps that wind down the side of the cliff.

She tells him she needs to be alone for a bit when he catches up to her, and Merlin nods.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready.”  
“Thank you.”

Merlin nods and kisses her on the forehead before turning around and heading back to the house.

 

* * *

 

Halfway down the cliff, she stops and sits, leaning against the step behind her. It’s dangerous to stop so far off the ground, and she knows it, but the thrill gives her strength, and she watches the beach down below. The campfire sits near the edge of the water, along with a discarded blanket, and she thinks back to the day before when the four of them had spent the afternoon by the water, chatting and working on their respective projects, books and laptops in hand.

She’d give anything to go back, to skip forward past the drama, to regain her brother’s trust.

She’s furious at Arthur, furious at the thought that she might have done something to hurt him, against her will, against her wishes.

She digs into her pocket and pulls out her phone, dialling the number she hates to get to Morgause.

The phone rings and rings, and she’s about to give up before it goes to voicemail when Morgause picks up in a tone that’s much too cheery to bode well for any of them.

“ _Morgana, darling! How are you?_ ”

“Terrible. What did you do?”

“ _What you asked me to! Did you see the article? It’s spawned quite a few others. It’s all over the city.”_

“I saw enough. I don’t recall telling you to go after my brother.”

“ _It was too good not to._ ”

“So you lied?! Slander is against the law, Morgause.”

Morgause laughs into the phone, and Morgana understands why it is that none of her friends like her. “ _I didn’t lie, darling. Everything was in the documents you gave me_.”

“There was nothing about Arthur in there.”

“ _Oh, yes there was. Didn’t you read the fine print? I suggest you look at the bottom of page six. Honestly, this is why you didn’t last in Econs_.”

“I didn’t last in Econs because I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life making other people miserable.”

“ _So precious. Remember what I said the other night, Morgana. This story isn’t going to go away anytime soon. Let me know if you find anything more.”_

Morgause hangs up before she can say anything more, and growling, Morgana resists throwing her phone over the ledge.  
Standing, she takes a moment to make sure her step is steady and makes her way down the rest of the stairs, ready to walk off her anger before going back indoors to investigate.

 

* * *

 

The anger doesn’t leave her no matter how far she walks or runs. She only feels it grow as the wind bites at her, and she knows she’s going to make herself sick if she doesn’t turn around. She’d left her coat and her scarf behind, and no matter how thick her jumper is, it’s no match for the early spring air.

Still, she doesn’t want to go back indoors, to face Arthur or Gwen or her mistakes and pulls out her phone.

 

_Can you please grab the red portfolio on my desk, my green scarf, and Aithusa and meet me by the car? xx_

 

* * *

 

They drive for almost twenty minutes before they get to the next town. Morgana races along the roads, and Merlin quietly lets her while Aithusa meows from her carrier in the backseat. The speed calms her, and she’s almost okay by the time they pull up next to one of her favourite cafés.

Merlin hadn’t gone back into the kitchen after the fight, and they’re both caffeine-deprived and famished. They order giant lattes and pancakes, and they pretend for just a moment that it’s just the morning after they’ve gotten engaged and not the beginning of a terrible drama that threatens to rip Morgana’s family even further apart.

They plan to go to Dublin over Easter so Morgana can get to know Hunith and talk about Merlin moving into the penthouse when they get back to London.

“Gaius is going to lose it.”

Morgana smiles into her cup of coffee and puts it down, savouring her coffee. “I think he’s seen this coming for a while.”

Merlin laughs. “I think we’re the only ones who didn’t.”  
“I think you’re right.”

They walk around town afterwards, hands linked, until they get to the edge of town. They make it out to a pier and listen to the waves lapping against the wooden pillars.  
The sound reminds her of childhood outings with Gorlois and later with Arthur and one of their many nannies, and determination mixes with her anger, and she decides she’s ready to investigate.

 

* * *

 

They get takeaway cups of coffee and Morgana lets Merlin drive further out of town until they get to an area near where they’d picnicked a few days earlier. They park the car and sit inside to flip through the pages of documents that Morgana had sent off to Morgause.

Every page points to Uther, every page stands by her, until Arthur’s miniscule signature appears on the sixth page and sends doubt crashing through her.

“He’s involved,” she breathes and hands the papers to Merlin.

“You don’t think he had something to do with it?”

“No, but he signed this. He would have signed anything Uther handed to him.” She groans and closes the portfolio. “I handed him over to the wolves.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose, Morgana.”

“No, and I’m sure he didn’t sign this on purpose, but he did, and I _did_. I should have read through it a second time. I don’t even know how I missed the signature the first time.”

“It’s barely legible, and his name isn’t printed.”

“He’s my brother, though. I should have seen it. What do I do, Merlin?”

“Can you deny that it’s his signature? If you didn’t see it, others might not recognize it? It does look like a scribble”

“Maybe? But I doubt it?”

Merlin sighs. “Do you want to drive back?”

“I think it would be best. Arthur should at least know before I do anything else.”

Merlin nods and starts the car.

 

* * *

 

Arthur reacts as badly as she expects him to, and they spend the afternoon on the phone with their lawyers, looking for ways to spare Arthur, but the news goes viral and nothing they do will change the fact that his name is being spread across the country.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Morgana,” Gwen insists, but the venom remains in Arthur’s glare, and she knows he won’t easily come around.

“Sorry doesn’t help, Morgana.”

“Fine. If you feel that way, Merlin and I will leave in the morning, and you can come home when you’re ready to help me set this right.”

Arthur huffs, and Morgana retreats to her bedroom.

 

* * *

 

Angry and exhausted, no one feels like cooking, and Merlin decides to drive back to town to get takeaway from the local pub.

Unable to relax in his absence, Morgana’s last nightmares come rushing back to her and tears burn in her eyes as she remembers the visions where she sentences Arthur to death and rips Gwen’s life apart. The pain of what she’s actually done accentuates the memories, and she curses herself for not being more careful.

She tries to set her mind to her thesis, to the books she’s brought with her, but nothing manages to distract her until she reaches for the volume of her mother’s journal that she’d stuck into her bag and begins to read.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thank yous to my best friend, again, for writing the Ygraine and Gorlois sections. She outdid herself with one bit, which you'll see when you get to it.
> 
> Thank you, also, to everyone for their feedback. We're pretty much at the middle-point now, and I'm excited to write the second half of the fic!

_5 January, 1992_

_Uther knows. I had to tell him, I had to. I simply had to. Every time I hold Arthur, I can see her face. I have nightmares of Morgana growing up and killing me for having abandoned her. She doesn’t let me sleep. Again. Again, again, she is the cause of my malaise! Uther is right. Having a conscience ruins a woman. I must have her back, where her father and I can watch over her and shape her properly. Then, I will sleep. I was afraid of his reaction but I guess he could not have resisted the sight go his lovely wife crying with their newborn child in her arms. I was worried for nothing. He is my slave as much as I am his. Morgana is going to be ours. We are going to be a family. We are going to be the most glorious family: me, Uther, Arthur, and Morgana. My Arthur cries and cries and cries, but when he met his sister for the first time, he was so quiet, looked so peaceful. Yes, we will have Morgana back. Things will go in the right direction. Gorlois will not want her once he knows she’s not his. He will be devastated but he will not want her near him, I am sure. Then, maybe he will pack his things and leave the bank to Uther. How ridiculous that he decided to stay. Foolish. That’s Gorlois, I guess. How did I not see this before? Weak, spineless. An avid little man who would not let  go of Uther’s rightful shares. He made him partner because of his soft heart. He felt sorry for the studious little mouse Gorlois used to be. He hasn’t change much. In fact, if it hadn’t been for his position, I might not have looked at him twice. I will have to try and curb my disgust for him when Morgana is here. The little elf loves Gorlois and it wouldn’t help me to have another crying child under my roof._

_Uther will take care of it for me. For us. Then, we will finally have our perfect life._

 

_*_

 

_10 January, 1992_

_Apparently, I need to be patient. Not my strong suit. But contradicting Uther would not be smart right now. He agrees that we need to get Morgana, but apparently the moment is not right. I went to see her the other day. She was happy to see me, my little elf. When she saw me from her pink cradle, she shrieked and ran as fast as her little legs allowed her. Arthur’s birth must have made me more sentimental because I found her to be a most remarkable child! She has a small heart-shaped face and big, green eyes, she smiles a lot and is very affectionate towards me, even though she sees little of me. I recounted the event to Uther who wasn’t as impressed as I was. He’s too taken with Arthur right now but I am certain that once he meets her, he will like her. Gorlois might be a good father to her, but he is not her father at all! I left her out of pity for him, but now I realise I made a huge mistake. Morgana is part me, part Uther, therefore she needs us. And I need her. I miss her every time of the day. She is the missing piece of my life. I want to hold my little boy and my little girl at the same time. My teary show touched Uther but after the shock of knowing Morgana is his, he became the cold and ruthless bureaucrat again. We need to wait, and strike at the right moment. In this way we will have Morgana and the bank all for us. He’s right, of course, but I am tired of waiting. Gorlois is not my husband anymore and he’s not Morgana’s father, she should not be with him, God knows what influence he might have on her. More than a couple of years, and I could find a little girl afraid of her own shadow. I need to have her with me, to prepare her for the world._

_But Uther is right. We have sacrificed too much to give up now. We will have Morgana sooner or later. And it will be permanent._

_We will be happy and richer than anybody else in this city! Uther and I will be victorious._

*****

 

_16 March, 1997_

_Trouble, trouble, trouble! That man gave me nothing but trouble when we lived together. Now that he doesn’t live at all, he keeps giving me trouble!_

_I have to think of everything. I have come to the reasonable conclusion that my Uther would be nothing without me. After all, who would Macbeth be without his Lady Macbeth? I know who Uther would be. He would be the lazy, spoiled little brat that sits on his leather chair waiting for his problems to go away. Lord, are men really all the same? I suppose Uther at least chose the right woman to save him. When it was all done, he thanked me and looked at me with such ardor as he rarely had before. Even with death so close to us, we couldn’t help but be happy._

_It is all over. The time came and we told Gorlois, and now he, the bane of our existence, is gone. Quite, quite dead. His poor heart couldn't take the news. Well. That’s what Doctor Gaius said, and the uptight, renowned Gaius would not lie. Except, he would! For the right price, of course. Like everyone. Gaius will not talk, he knows what’s best for him. Even without what we have, he would not talk, he is Uther’s lackey, his little doctor, his little court fool. Sometimes I imagine that Uther and I are medieval monarchs, fighting against an ocean of troubles. Well, he won’t trouble us anymore._

_I can hear Morgana crying from her room. She hasn’t stopped in two days. I had to sing to her and hold her like a little baby to make her sleep. Her shrieks bothered Uther. I couldn’t just allow her to scream like a demon-child. I can’t let my mask of grief slip and it’s taking its toll on me._

_Soon all of this will be over. Soon, it will all be buried and forgotten. I just need to be patient a little longer and then, then my king and I will have peace._

 

* * *

 

Morgana feels the world drop from under her as she reads. That her mother had played an active role in Gorlois’s death is bad enough, but that Gaius, the one person she’d counted on through the years had as well is unthinkable.

A living, breathing pawn to her father, to her mother, to everyone who’d once shaped her world, she’s too stunned to be angry, to feel anything but her heart pounding.

She lets the journal fall from her hands as she finishes the passage and curls up on her bed. She pulls her hands into the sleeves of the jumper she’d nicked from Merlin and tucks her feet under her, taking up as little room as possible, and allows numbness to take over.

 

* * *

 

It’s almost forty minutes later when Merlin comes back. She hears the gravel crunch beneath the tires as he pulls up beside the cottage, hears the bell ring as Arthur or Gwen lets him in, and still she doesn’t move.

She hasn’t moved, hasn’t done anything but replay the passages and feel the numbing anger build up within her, and she thinks she’s going to crack when the door opens and Merlin makes his way into the room.

“Morgana?” he murmurs, no doubt thinking she’d fallen asleep.

She squeezes her eyes shut, steeling herself in preparation for what she needs to share with him, and doesn’t answer, doesn’t know what she can possibly say to make things okay again. Her parents, his uncle… Everything is so terribly mixed up that she wishes she’d left everything alone and never stumbled over the journals.

Merlin quietly makes his way to her side. She doesn’t see his expression when he realizes that she’s awake, but the angry tears she’s held back form in her eyes when he picks up the journal and crouches down beside the bed.

It isn’t fair that this has come to them now, when they could have been so happy, when they _are_.

“Hey,” he whispers.

The sound of his voice both calms her and feeds her anger at the injustice of it all. She sniffs and gives him a wobbly smile. “Hi.”

He holds up the journal. “That bad?”

She lets out a sordid laugh. “Worse than you could ever imagine.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I want to wipe my memory and forget I ever found them.”

Merlin stares at her wordlessly, sadness seeping out his eyes before he’s even heard about them. She sniffs and sits up to budge over. “Sit with me for a minute?”

“Of course.”

He’s beside her immediately, arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she tucks herself into him. The thought that she could lose him and everything they’ve had rips through her and she tightens her grip on the front of his jumper.

“I wish I didn’t have to tell you what I read.”

“You _don’t_ ,” Merlin says immediately and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“I do, though,” she objects, voice steady and resolute, and twists to look up at him. “It concerns you.”

Merlin frowns. “How is that possible?”

“Indirectly, anyway.”

“I still don’t see…”

Morgana swallows and takes a deep breath. “Gaius is in one of the entries.”

“No,” Merlin breathes.

She reaches across him for the journal and opens it to the right page before handing it to him. “I’m sorry.”

She scoots away from him to crawl off the bed and leave him to read on his own. She goes to stand by the window and settles onto the window seat. It’s still cold, despite the early spring, and the glass is practically frozen to her touch. She presses her hand to it, allowing her anger to cool and wills herself to stay calm.

“This can’t be right,” Merlin mutters as he finishes reading.  

“It has to be.” Morgana shakes her head, turning to look back at him. His expression is drawn and he looks as horrified as she feels. “It fits with when he retired. He disappeared for years after my dad died.”

“He was in Dublin with us.”

“You don’t think your mum knew?”

“No! Morgana!”

The horror in his expression intensifies, and she feels her pulse begins to gallop. “I’m sorry. I just –”

“My dad was sick. He stayed with us to help with him and after… This is just – Fuck.”

“I’m _sorry_.”  

“Not you, Morgana.” He groans.

She breathes slowly, relieved but still scared that things might take a turn for the worse.

“What do we do?”

Merlin shakes his head. “You don’t want to hand these over, do you? I know you wanted to expose Uther’s role in Gorlois’s death...”

“Not like this! It was different when I thought only Uther was involved.”

“There has to be more to the story.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that he’s been lying to me for all of these years. It’s been eighteen _years_ , Merlin, and he’s been my confidante for most of them. He’s known all of this time and he never said anything.”

“What was he supposed to say, Morgana? You were a child!”

“I’m not anymore, though! He knows what I’ve been going through. He knows what Uther has likely done. He could have spoken up over the last few weeks, if not the last few years! He could have gone to the authorities sooner.”

“At what cost? The entry said they had something over him.” He looks down and reads, “‘he knows what’s best for him’... ‘even without what we have’! They must have had something over him.”

“We don’t know that.”

“And we don’t know that they didn’t! I need to call him. He has to have an explanation.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“He’s my uncle, Morgana. He has to.”

Morgana gives one short nod. “I’ll just –” she says and gestures towards the door, rising. “I should try to talk to Arthur again. I know I said we’d leave in the morning, but I should at least give it another shot. Especially after this.”

“He seemed calmer when I got back. I think Gwen had been talking to him.”

“If anyone is going to get through to him, it’s Gwen.”

Merlin nods. “Are you going to tell him about this?”

“No. Not yet. I don’t think ‘Please forgive me. Our mother was a terrible person.’ is the way to go just yet.”

 

* * *

 

Arthur and Gwen are dishing up food in the kitchen when Morgana makes it downstairs. She cautiously peers into the room and catches Gwen’s eye. Her best friend smiles and nods to her before meaningfully looking at Arthur, who has his back turned to both of them.

“We were wondering where you two got to,” Gwen says, smilingly breaking the silence.

Morgana raises her eyebrow at her act, but then adopts it when Arthur turns around, visibly trying to act like nothing is wrong.

“Merlin should be a bit longer. He had to call home.”

“Is everything okay?”

Morgana shrugs, and Gwen narrows her eyes at her before nodding and adding, “It was kind of him to get us dinner.”

Morgana gives her a small smile and climbs onto a stool next to the island counter. “It’s just the way he is,” she explains, fidgeting and pulling her left hand into her sleeve. “He’s good in a crisis.”

“He’s a good one, Morgana,” Arthur says from across the room, nodding. “I’m surprised you chose so well.”

Morgana raises her brow but is glad her brother is finally speaking to her. She knows it’s difficult for him to apologize and knows this is his way of doing so, especially after he’d lashed out at Merlin earlier. “When have I ever chosen poorly?”

“When have you ever chosen at all, more like?”

“I’ve dated!”

Arthur snorts. “To annoy Uther. Alvarr and Valiant hardly count.”

“What about Gwaine?”

Gwen bursts out laughing. “That was hardly serious.”

Morgana smirks. “Fair enough.”

“I mean it though. I like Merlin,” Arthur insists.

“I’m glad,” Morgana says and fidgets with her ring under the counter.

“It is serious, isn’t it?” Gwen asks.

Morgana nods and gives them a small smile. “It is. Very serious.” She wants to tell them, but the timing is hardly opportune when Merlin is upstairs, having what is likely an upsetting conversation because of her.

“I’m sorry, Morgana.” She looks up to find Arthur’s countenance changed. She hadn’t expected an actual apology and is even more stunned when he continues, “I shouldn’t have accused you. I never should have doubted you.”

“And I should have been more careful. I’ll always have your back, Arthur. Yours and Gwen’s.”

“I know.”  
Arthur steps across the room and envelopes her in a bear hug, and when he pulls away, Morgana punches him in the arm.

“Oi! What was that for?”

“For doubting me, you prat.”

Arthur pouts, and Gwen shakes her head at both of them. “You’re both ridiculous.”

Morgana shrugs with a smirk. “It’s a pity you’re stuck with us.”

“I’m just glad I have Merlin to keep me company now.”

Morgana laughs. “You’re in for a surprise if you think he’s any less ridiculous than we are.”

 

* * *

 

Despite their reconciliation, there is still a strain between her and Arthur and pretending that her mother’s words aren’t still ringing in her ears drains her. The strain pushes her to excuse herself, and Morgana is exhausted when she goes to check on Merlin soon thereafter.

He’s sitting in the window seat when she pushes through the door, phone in his lap, looking far more sombre than when she’d left him.

She frowns and goes to sit beside him. “What did Gaius say?”

“He doesn’t want to talk about it on the phone, but he promised that it was the last thing he wanted to do.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he did it.”

Merlin sighs. “He said he’ll explain everything when he gets back from Dublin.”

“That won’t be for weeks.”

“No, but what if we go there? You want to meet my mum, and we were talking about going for Easter. That’s only ten days away.”

Morgana nods. “Fine.”

“That isn’t all though, Morgana.”

She frowns. “There can’t possibly be more at this point.”

“If only that were true.” He points at the journal he’d placed on her desk and a sheet of paper that sits atop it. “That fell out when I went to put the journal back.”

“What is it?”

“I only looked at the first few lines, but –” he stops, swallowing thickly. “I’m really sorry Morgana, but I think it’s a suicide note from your father.”

 

* * *

 

_Dear Ygraine,_

_Before I go, I need to let you know._

_The last years have been the most difficult of my life. I have loved you like I have never loved any other woman, and I thank you for the happiness you have gifted me. I don’t begrudge you your love for Uther, I had always known I could never be enough for you. You have always been so vibrant, so full of life. I knew in my heart you could never be completely happy with me. But I have. I have been so happy with you that my agony now seems the just repayment for having been so deliriously happy. Some envious god is certainly punishing me because no human could ever be allowed to be as happy as I have been with you._

_And then came Morgana. You might not have been there with me anymore but, for all these interminable years, my Morgana has been the flesh-and-blood proof that I have had you, even if only for a little while. She was my everything. She will always be my most precious love, my greatest love._

_Now I know she is not my own blood, but she is still the shiver I feel on my skin whenever she screams ‘Catch me, Papa!’, and I wish more than anything I could always be there to catch her, to protect her from all the pain and injustices of life._

_I have fought and I have lost._

_Please, Ygraine, take care of my sweet Morgana. I now know how you must have suffered in leaving her behind as I must now do. She is the child of my heart. She always will be. And she too loves me dearly. The adjustment will be difficult – please don’t be angry with her, please, don’t let Uther be angry with her. Don't let anything hurt her. Keep her safe. Make her happy, make sure she will always be happy. For her sake if not for mine._

_For me, I only ask you don’t let her forget how much I love her, how much I would like for her to be with me always. But she has a father, and apparently it is not me._

_I beg you, Ygraine. It is my only wish. Don’t let her doubt for one single moment that she is loveable and that she will always be loved by me._

_I wish you all the best, Ygraine._

_Be happy, my dear._

_Gorlois_

 

* * *

 

Morgana starts crying before she makes it more than a few lines into the letter and is sobbing by the time she gets to the end of it. She didn’t think her father’s death could possibly hurt anymore than it already did, but the letter brings the raw pain she’d felt as a child back to her, and she feels as if her heart is being ripped out of her chest all over again.

She sits down on her bed, and Merlin wraps his arms around her. He holds her, gently tracing circles on her back and whispering well-meant words of comfort into her hair.

Her head pounds, but she can’t bring herself to stop crying until it feels as if her lungs are on the verge of rupturing as she gasps for air. Merlin shifts them then, and lays her down on her side of the bed before lying down to face her.

 

* * *

 

Morgana eventually drifts off, tired out by her relentless tears, and only wakes when her phone begins to vibrate in her pocket. Merlin is asleep beside her, curved around her, and she frowns when she sees a message from Morgause pop up on the screen.

 

_Call me. I meant what I said the other day. Xx_

 

Morgana crawls out of bed with her phone and dials Morgause’s number.

“ _Morgana, darling!_ ”Morgause answers almost immediately.

“What do you want, Morgause?!” Morgana snaps, her voice still hoarse.

She shuts the door of her bedroom behind her and makes her way up the steps to the top floor, where all of the bedrooms are unoccupied.

“ _Can’t I just call my friend?_ ”

“No.”

“ _Well I was just thinking about what you said about retracting Arthur’s involvement and saying it was all a mistaken reading of the document. I think it can be done_.”

Morgana bites down on her lip. It’s much too good to be true. “What do you want in exchange?”

“Why must you assume I want something?”

Morgana remains quiet, knowing it’ll only be seconds until Morgause says what she wants.

“ _Fine. More information_.”

“I’ve given you all I’m willing to share.”

“ _Oh I don’t believe that. Not with Uther and Arthur in your family. I have no doubt you have tons more in hand_.”

“I’m not interested, Morgause.”

“ _Hmm. Well I’d suggest you think about it because one way or another, the public is going to hear more. They’re eating all of this up, and I’ll be damned if I don’t give them what they want_.”

“And how are you going to do that without lying?”

“ _Oh I don’t need to lie. I have plenty of information ready. What’s up to you is whether they get the information you choose or the information I have ready. Just think about it Morgana_.”

She hangs up before Morgana can reply, and her phone tings within seconds with a picture from Morgause. A bright blue folder filled with documents fills her screen, followed by a text.

 

_I have all of that on Arthur alone, and I have no doubt I can find more. Choose wisely. Xx_

 

* * *

 

What she has to do is clear. Quietly as she can, she packs her things. She sloppily folds her clothes and stacks her papers. The books go into her bag along with the portfolios of documents, and when she’s done, she zips the bag shut and goes to rest on the side of the bed.

Merlin is in deep sleep, and she lets out the breath she’s holding when he doesn’t move as the mattress dips ever so slightly from her weight. He’s laid out on his stomach, arm still resting where it had been on her pillow.

Holding her hair back, she leans forward and, gently brushing his hair out of his face, places a feather light kiss to his cheek. Tears form in her eyes as she does so, and she finds herself choking back silent sobs as she moves back to her desk and picks up the pen she’d left out beside the journal and scrawls,

 

_I love you with every fibre of my being, and I always, always will,_

_but I can’t ask you to go down with me._

_I’m sorry. Forget me._

 

on a scrap of paper.

She places it on Merlin’s bedside table and, giving in to the tears, slips the ring off her finger and leaves it on top of the note.

Picking up her bag and the journal, she slips out of the room and the cottage and drives back to the city.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for your responses to the last chapter! I'm so sorry for the pain that I've caused. There's definitely a fair share of angst up ahead, as a warning, but I promise it will all be worth it. Because yes this is marked as the last chapter even though I said we were basically at the midway point last time... but this is not the end! I have a sequel elaborately planned out, and it should be even longer than this piece, so look out for that very, very soon!

Tendrils of guilt work their way through Morgana’s chest as she drives. They wrap themselves around her heart and her lungs and squeeze in repeated attempts to crush her will to go forward.

Her last moments at the cottage play through her mind – the moonlight streaming in from her third floor window, the creak of the stairs as she’d made her escape, the peaceful rise and fall of Merlin’s chest as he’d slept, blissfully unaware of her actions. Guilt claws away at her, in tune with the echoes, and she fights the temptation to turn around and crawl back into bed before she’s missed.

She longs to curl up beside Merlin, to feel his arms wrap around her and wrap her own around him. She already misses the warmth and safety and sheer joy they’d woken to not even a full day earlier, and her bare finger sends pangs of regret shooting through her.

She wants to turn around and pretend that nothing has happened, but she knows she’s played with fire, that Morgause won’t stop until she gets what she wants, and that it’s down to her to set everything right.

Tears well up in her eyes but turn to anger before they spill over. The emotions that wrack through her are too much. Too painful, too tempting, too dangerous for her to visit, driving on a narrow road in the middle of the night. She squeezes her eyes shut and decides that there must be no more.

No more tears. No more regret.

No more weakness.

Not even if it destroys her.

The only option left for her now is to go forward, to take care of Morgause once and for all and allow her family to be happy without her.

 

* * *

 

It’s two a.m. by the time Morgana makes it into the city. It being the middle of the week, the streets are practically devoid of traffic, and she speeds straight towards Morgause’s office. She pulls into a garage across the street from the glass high-rise and sighs when she finds nothing but a message from Morgause to confirm their meeting on her phone. No messages means that no one is yet aware of her departure, and she makes her way out into the night in relief.

 

* * *

Morgause is waiting for her by the lift when she arrives and wastes no time in getting to the point. She’s flawlessly dressed in a burgundy pencil skirt and six inch heels. Not even a hair is out of place, and she greets her with such a smug smile that Morgana questions her decision to move forward with her plan for the hundredth time since stepping out the cottage door.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.”

Morgana scoffs and pushes the strap of her bag further up onto her shoulder before crossing her arms in front of her.  “Believe me when I say I’m not here because I want to be.”

“We’ll see about that when you hear the rest of what I have to say.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Morgause smiles and steps into the lift, beckoning for Morgana to follow her. “Come on.”

 

* * *

“Before we begin, I want your word, in writing, that if I give you a story, you insist that Arthur had absolutely nothing to do with Tom Leodegrance’s death.”

Morgause smirks, leaning back in her chair. “I’m assuming you have something to share with me, then.”

“Your word, Morgause.”

“Fine.”

“And I want you to swear that you’ll leave Arthur and everyone in my family but Uther alone from now on.”

“So precious.”

“I’m not joking, Morgause. Either you swear or I don’t give you what I have.”

“I’m afraid that depends on you, Morgana.”

Morgana raises her eyebrow and holds up the journal in front of her.

“No, no. You give me that, and I deny Arthur’s involvement with Leodegrance. If you request anything beyond that… If you want me to leave him alone indefinitely... Well, I’ll need more from you.”

“I’m not giving you anything more.”

“Oh, I believe I have a better suggestion than your simply giving me stories.”

“I’m not going to pay you off, Morgause.”

Morgause chuckles. “I don’t need your money. I’ve earned plenty of that on my own. No. I want you to come and join us.”

“You want me to work for you?” Morgana scoffs. “I don’t know when I’ve ever heard of anything more ridiculous.”

Morgause shrugs and gives her a cool smile. “I don’t think you’ll find it so very funny.”

“I already have a career path, thanks.”

“And I’m sure the literary path will do wonders in keeping your family out of harm’s way.”

Morgana fights to keep her tone calm, and she knows her voice comes out steely instead, “What are you suggesting?”

“Just that I already have so much amassed on Arthur. It wouldn’t be that difficult to dig up more dirt on his wife.”

She and Merlin are the only ones who know about their marriage, and Morgause’s words bring a frown to her face. She straightens in her chair, and her knuckles whiten as she grips the armrest. “How do you possibly know about Gwen?”

“I know everything, darling. I know they’ve eloped and have been hiding by the seaside. I know you’ve found yourself a gorgeous Irishman to keep you warm, and I must say his family has quite the colourful background. I’m sure there’s much I could do with the society princess and the son of a former IRA militant.”

Morgana narrows her eyes at her. “What makes you think I won’t leave this office and call up our lawyer? He already knows what you’re up to, and it wouldn’t take much to get you for blackmail and slander.”

Morgause chuckles. “He can try, but he can’t do much when I’m telling the truth now, can he? I’ve studied the law, Morgana. I know all of the loopholes. He can’t get me for anything, but I _can_ begin to release information. The society pages won’t much care so long as the public bites, and I promise you they will. I have enough here to cover your family for years. Unless…” Morgause pauses, smirking in the most self-satisfied way that sets Morgana’s teeth on edge, and repeats herself, “ _Unless_ you come on board. I need someone with your connections and your skills to mingle and gather information. No one would suspect you.”

“You want me to be a private investigator?”

Morgause nods. “Then I’ll do what you ask. I’ll release the information you give me, and I’ll take down Uther, no matter what it takes.”

“And you’ll leave Arthur alone?”

“As much as it’ll pain me to miss out on such good story opportunities,” Morgause concedes.

“And Gwen? and Merlin?”

“Yes.” Morgause sighs. “Arthur, Gwen, and your precious boyfriend will be out of bounds from here on out. It’s your call.”

Morgana nods slowly. She doesn’t want to do it, doesn’t want to tie herself to Morgause and lose every last chance of a reconciliation, but she doesn’t see any other way.

“I’ll give you the night to think it over.”

Her heart races as she fixes a steely gaze on the woman across from her, and she barely hears herself speak. “I don’t need the night. I’ll do it.”

Morgause smiles, eyes cold and calculating. “Excellent.”

 

* * *

 

She spends the rest of the night making arrangements with Morgause, signing deals, and explaining what she wants done with Ygraine’s journal entries on Gorlois. She hands over Uther and Gaius and makes sure that Gorlois will finally be done justice and that Uther will be known to be the terrible man that he is. She has no doubt that once the story breaks, the public will turn against him completely and the authorities will have no choice but to precipitately pursue him.

Once everything is sorted, she watches Morgause prepare the version of the story that will appear on The Grail’s website, and then she goes to sit in the coffee shop until the story breaks in the early morning.

She knows she shouldn’t be there, not when she’s just handed Gaius over to Morgause and his betrayal fills the environs with pain, but she needs a place of comfort, and her masochism wins out.

Will doesn’t question her even though her appearance without Merlin is suspicious at this point, and she settles into her corner nook, nestled into the shelves steps above the rest of the shop.   

 

* * *

 

She tries to work in her familiar haven, trying to rewrite the sections of her latest chapter on which her supervisor had commented. Instead, she finds herself blankly staring at the room in front of her. She replays nights with Merlin and old chats with Gaius until the misery begins to press down on her chest.

She’s leaving behind everything she knows and loves, and the pain is too much. Breathing deeply, she pulls herself away from her thoughts, and, fixating on the blinking cursor, begins to constantly refresh the news pages.

The Grail headline surfaces at 5:08 a.m.

“Murder at Albion: Esteemed Doctor Helps Cover-Up Another Pendragon Death”

Others follow within the hour and by 6:03, every major serious and trashy news outlet has the story covered. Uther’s face is plastered across her screen along with old photos of him with her parents.

She reads every article, every tweet, every comment that begins to surface and only when customers begin to flood in for the morning rush does she decide that it’s time to move on.

She shuts her laptop and zips it into its emerald green case before slipping it and the pile of books she’d lugged in with her into her bag. She runs her hand across the oak table and trails it along the bookshelves beside her. She takes in every detail of the room: the worn carpets the overlap on the floor, the heavy armchairs in which she’d spent more nights than she can count, and the heavy shelves that line every wall of the room, filled with books and mugs and mementos that had made the shop her haven, her home away from home. She has no doubt the happy memories will outweigh the pain of the last day, and she wants to remember everything about the shop.

Giving Will a shaky smile, she pushes back the tears that threaten to fall and makes her way out the door for the last time.

 

 


End file.
